


Variable

by kriegersan



Series: Hello world [5]
Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Choking, Cum Eating, D/s elements, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Face-Fucking, Gallows Humor, M/M, Partners to Lovers, Porn with Feelings, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rimming, Romance, Switching, Trust Kink, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-03 07:39:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 29,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5282378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kriegersan/pseuds/kriegersan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Just-- ah, you trust me. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing that.” </p><p>(Philanthropy fic. Post-Tanker. Three months off the grid in a cabin.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Value

**Author's Note:**

> Note the warnings for this fic. Descriptions of (fairly kinky) explicit sex between two dudes. You've been adequately warned. 
> 
> Also, standard warning for Metal Gear Logic, ridiculous mentions of real life media, ridiculous mentions of Metal Gear canon, ridiculous boys with feelings.
> 
> I hope the slow burn finally pays off. This is as close to a fluffy PWP as this series gets. These two deserve to be happy for awhile.

“Poisonous hamsters.”

“Deadly poisonous Zanzibar hamsters. The specification is important.”

Hal balks. “So there’s another type of poisonous hamster?”

“Maybe? Not sure.” Dave sort of shrugs, as much as he can with Hal resting on his shoulder. “They _were_ deadly though.”

“Uh huh.”

“Hey, you asked me for weird, I give you weird. I can’t make this shit up.”

“And somehow ‘deadly poisonous Zanzibar hamsters’ rank lower on your top five than REX’s laser cannon?”

He scoffs. “The placement of that thing… come on.”

“Oh, shut up. It was meant to be a short range defense system to protect the bipeds, it’s not my fault that it so happened to resemble, uh, certain human attributes.”

“…Laser robot dick.”

“I will fight you.”

“Maybe I’ll let you win,” Dave chuckles, voice warm. He pulls Hal tighter against his body, leans in to meet his lips.

They’ve become a permanent fixture of the bed, by this point. Last night had been nothing short of staggering; a new paradigm of their relationship, and it’s difficult to separate, even with the morning stretching into the early hours of noon. They can’t stop touching each other, can’t stop talking, haven’t left one another alone apart from getting up to piss, or get water, or get the laptop, much to Dave’s dull surprise.

Hal makes a pleased noise, comes up on one arm to support himself, leg slotting between Dave’s. It’s way too effortless just to lick into his mouth, Dave responsive, physical beneath him. So much better than any of the dreams had ever been. His cock starts to fill out and harden between them, so sensitive to his touch. He should be tired, exhausted, by this point, Dave having pulled enough orgasms from him already. Yet, still, after so many years of only the comfort of his own hand, his body is so responsive, humming from his partner’s steady touch.

And Dave, still a bit hesitant, knows he’s asking too many questions. He wants to be sure, these tentative steps forward into a genuine emotional connection. It’s not like him to offer up this part of himself, having experienced the cold sting of betrayal, his heart churned into pulp enough times to know better. But, oh. It’s freeing to just go with it, let his senses take over, to kiss Hal and focus on making him feel good, meeting his needs, learn to exploit every nuance of his body. Hal views the world through a far more unique lens than him, or anyone he’s ever known-- lacks the brutality, the severity. It’s intoxicating, trying to understand his perception of things, and Dave’s always been a quick study.

The hand at Hal’s back shifts, caresses the tense muscle running along his spine, moves lower against the small of his back. Fingers tickle at the dimples there, then the highest part of his ass, and he makes this breathless noise into Dave’s mouth, spine curving, pushing up into the touch. His other hand threads through Hal’s hair, pulls him up, closer, Hal’s thigh pressing firmer against Dave’s cock, thickening again against his hip.

His index finger teases the point of Hal’s tailbone, an inquisitive touch. He really isn’t sure where Hal’s experience lay with this, doesn’t want to push too hard given more recent knowledge. Lets him set the pace. Hal hums into his mouth, sucks his lower lip into his teeth and bites down, only briefly. Good, then.

His fingers continue into the cleft of Hal’s ass, pressing in just enough for him to really feel it. He receives a moan in response, so he pushes further, until he feels the barest resistance against the pad of his finger, hole clenching against the promise of penetration.

Dave detaches himself from Hal’s lips for only a second, can feel Hal’s breath against his face. His eyes are closed, glasses smudged, and for some reason that makes his dick pulse in response.

His hand doesn’t move further, the opposite sliding down the length of Hal’s flank to grasp his other hip, then one cheek of his ass, pulling him gently apart. Dave mouths at his jaw, soft, searching kisses, nuzzles against the side of his face. “Can I…?”

Hal’s brain is only barely able to put together exactly what he’s asking, too focused on just how hot his own face is, how tight and coiled every muscle in his body feels. His hips push back against those hands, aching to feel one of those fingers inside of him, but Dave doesn’t move, won’t move, wants him to ask for it. Somehow that just makes that deathly hot feeling travel down his neck, his chest, until his whole body is just hungry for it.

“I-- yeah. God, yeah.”

He’s so embarrassed, having to ask for this, but Dave’s mouth finds his again for a hot second. Then, his dominant hand rises up, and Hal follows it closely with his eyes, watches him slide his fingers between his lips, his whole body tensing, as Dave’s tongue dips out to get them good and wet. “Not fair,” he almost whines, receiving a downright filthy grin in response, before his mouth is swallowed again in a kiss.

That hand reclaims its position near the base of Hal’s spine, fingers creeping lower, slick as they press into the hottest part of him. He arches back with a sigh, feels the hint of pressure of Dave’s middle finger teasing his hole, the other hand squeezing and kneading his ass.

“Okay?” Dave nips at his lower lip. He’s just so responsive in his hands. An elastic pulled taut, ready to snap, he hadn’t had any idea. Hal always manages to find a new way to surprise him, a new angle to consider.

“Come on, yeah.” Hal’s fairly sure his face is mottled and patchy from how hard he’s blushing, how badly he wants this.

The low moan that leaves him when Dave eases his middle finger in to the first knuckle is nothing short of embarrassing, head bowing because, oh, fuck, everything feels so tight, and he could come just from how fucking sensitive he is. Dave’s resounding growl makes his ass clench, wrist tense, pushes in deeper.

Hal spreads his legs, Dave hitching him higher for better access, the tip of his nose pressed up against his temple. Spreads his ass again with that strong hand, the other steadily rocking in and out of him, deeper with each slide in with only saliva to ease the way. He crooks his finger down, and Hal bucks against him. “Ah!”

“You ever been fucked this way before?” Dave kisses the expanse of neck available to him, dick pulsing at the feel of Hal tight and hot around his finger. God, he’d like to get inside, fuck him into a sweaty mess, mindless with pleasure.

Hal’s eyes open, unfocused under his glasses, and he laughs, breathless against the side of Dave’s head. “Mm, not by another person.” He cants his hips, thighs tensing as he curves into the touch.

A spark of intrigue. Dave’s eyebrow raises, as he nuzzles into the side of his neck. “So you play with yourself like this then? Interesting.”

“Interesting? What-- ah-- what’s that supposed to mean?” He suddenly feels a little self-conscious, biting his lips, even if his whole body feels like it’s about to shatter apart if Dave isn’t holding him down. His hand slips down between them, curls around the head of his dick, oversensitive, because he could definitely, probably, come again from this.

Dave makes this low sound, breathes deep, doesn’t stop. “Just picturing it.” His teeth graze the sensitive column of Hal’s throat, feels his pulse quicken. “You thinking about me while you fucked yourself?”

Hal clenches, hips rolling, Dave’s finger fucking deeper inside, a steady pressure building in his groin. “Maybe,” he says, breathlessly, “Yeah.” His own hand works, pinned between them, fisting his cock steadily against the movement.

“How long?” More kisses against his neck, punctuated with sharper, constant thrusts inside him. The hand on his ass digs in, flexing against his flesh, nails biting into his skin. Building pressure. Hal’s so hot, so wound up already, eyes clenched tight. “Tell me.”

“Don’t stop,” he says, instead. Teeth and lips seal around the skin at his neck, sucking and biting, and then Dave sits up further, shoulder moving, gets his hand down lower to fuck his finger in to the hilt, index teasing alongside the spread of his hole, testing the resistance there.

Hal moans, shaking, so close and then Dave just _stops_ , stops moving, holds him there, other hand kneading his ass. “Tell me,” Dave insists, teeth skimming the oversensitive skin at his throat. He whines, hips jerking, wanting so much more.

He wants to hear the answer. Wants to know how much time he wasted, trying to get Hal to come to him, to navigate this partnership without it blowing up in his face. How long Hal spent fucking himself, touching his cock, wondering if he felt the same. God.

“Since the start,” rasps Hal, finally, the words agonizingly pulled out from his very core, “Since the very fucking start, David, please, I--”

Dave twists his wrist, finger rotating inside of him, earning him a high moan in the back of his partner’s throat. He curls his fingers, teases the index alongside the rim of his asshole, eases just the tip in, and feels Hal start to fall apart around him.

He kisses up his jaw, to his chin, finds Hal’s mouth again because he wants to taste the orgasm on his tongue. He can feel Hal’s own hand start to falter, hips fucking desperately, seeking release. Feels him tighten and pulse around his fingers when it finally hits, like a wave rolling over him. Hal gasps into his mouth, voice cracking, and Dave eases his movements slowly with the constricting of Hal’s muscles, feels the wet sensation of his spend hitting his own stomach.

Hal goes limp on top of him, sliding lower to bury his face in his shoulder. Dave chuckles, eases the finger out of his ass, gives him a little slap for good measure. Kisses the top of his forehead, arm tightening around his back.

“Not fair.” Hal’s voice is muffled, wrecked.

“Hm?”

He lifts his head up from the comforting warmth of Dave’s shoulder, uses the sharp line of his collarbone in an attempt to fix his glasses. He gives up, raises his hand still slick with cum, uses his knuckle to right them. “You fight dirty.”

“Well, you have to admit. Damn good way to extort information.”

With a wicked smirk, Dave catches Hal’s hand with his own, drags his fingers to his mouth and licks them clean. Hal watches with a sort of detached fascination, his cock giving a hopeful twitch, this is too good to be true. He has to be dreaming.

“So,” Dave asks, with a lascivious swipe of his tongue over the pad of Hal’s finger, “since the start? You mean since—“

“We started Philanthropy. Yeah.” His face heats again, mortified, but Dave’s eyes flare with something akin to satisfaction. “I know. I should’ve said something sooner.”

“The past is dead.” He leans down, kisses Hal’s mouth again, and receives a happy noise into his mouth. “I have you now.” On his tongue, he can taste Hal’s slightly bitter flavor, shares it with him, hand twining in his hair. God, he could stay here forever.

The laptop pings, where it’s been abandoned to the floor, and Hal instinctively perks up at the sound. Dave hums, gives him one last kiss. “I know you want to check it.”

With a sheepish look, Hal slides away to bequeath the computer from the floor, sits upright to start browsing. Dave slips out from under the sheets and pads out of the room, and Hal can distantly hear the sink running, is aware of the world starting to settle and shift around them.

They need to talk about this. About everything changing between them. What this means for Philanthropy. It’s a little terrifying.

And yet, when Dave returns, eases into the bed behind him, legs framing his hips, arms wrapping around his waist, he can’t help but wonder why he ever doubted this. Dave’s chin lands on his shoulder, watching him type, before pressing a kiss into his neck. “Anything new?”

“Just some new satellite data. I’ll have to go through it and see if there’s anything we can use.”

“Hm.”

Hal looks back over his shoulder, finds Dave’s face closer than expected, regarding him with a calm look. “We just had a lot of sex,” says Hal, bluntly, before immediately kicking himself for how that had come out. “Wow. Uh, what I meant to say is, we should probably talk about this.”

“Mm, probably.” A kiss to the tip of his shoulder. “Not in bed.”

They clamber out into the living room, Hal pulling on a shirt and pants, Dave content to wander around bare chested, absent-mindedly scratching his belly as he wanders to the coffee pot. His body is nothing short of exquisite, a perfect male specimen, all hard edges and rippling muscle; makes Hal aware of how skinny and pale he is, in comparison, and without the haze of sex to overtake that self-consciousness, the braver parts of himself go back into hiding. For now, at least.

The sofa is a neutral ground, Hal setting the laptop on the coffee table, before Dave presents him with a mug. It’s black and deep, endless like the night before. He starts thinking about what to say, and Dave’s flat expression, those knowing eyes betray the fact that he’s doing the exact same thing.

Dave folds himself gracefully down next to Hal, edges closer, pulling his legs into his lap. He doesn’t want to let go, now that he’s had his hands all over Hal. Hates seeing him all covered up, but it’s probably for the best, that naked skin far too tempting.

“Okay, so,” Hal starts, suddenly unsure of himself. Somehow this makes everything very serious. Even if Dave’s hand is secured around his ankle, thumb rubbing gently there, and it honestly kind of tickles and makes his chest ache in this weird way. “Ground rules.”

“Right.”

“If for whatever reason. One of us wants to… stop.” He breathes in, tries his best to meet Dave’s eyes. “We stop. No questions asked.”

“Fair.” It kind of stings to have to talk about a hypothetical end when they’ve only just started, but Dave understands, feels the weight of Hal’s guilt, despite his attempts to lift it off of those slim shoulders. Understands his own hang-ups, how they look from the bottom of a bottle. “Philanthropy first.”

Hal nods, soberly. “Exactly. And,” he clears his throat, feeling suddenly more vulnerable than he had while naked, while being penetrated, “we talk about… stuff. Uh. I mean. If you’re pissed off at me, or I’m… hiding, or there’s something up with, uh, _us_ , we can’t let that affect our communication when it comes to Philanthropy.”

“Communication. Sure.” Not exactly Dave’s strong point, preferring to keep his emotions deeply guarded, but he can probably figure it out. Probably. Hal’s unlocked things in him he’d thought were long dead, anyhow. Inspires something in him. “I can do that.”

“We can’t let our personal feelings get in the way of work.”

Personal feelings. Jesus. Dave nods, nevertheless. “Got it.”

Hal looks down, wiggles his bare foot in Dave’s grasp. “What about you?”

“I trust you. All of that sounds realistic to me. I’ll let you know if I think of something else.” He shrugs, looks up at Hal through his lashes. Meets an open, serious look on his partner’s face. “What?”

“Just-- ah, you trust me. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing that.” Hal smiles, this bright, earnest thing. Dave can’t stop staring at him, wants to be the person to make him light up inside like that with every bit of his body, down to his bones. God, he’s never wanted to be that for someone else before. It’s fucking terrifying.

Hal’s smile goes lopsided, and he leans closer. “Something on my face?”

“No,” says Dave, briefly returning the smile. His finger dances along the top of Hal’s foot, earns him a sharp gasp of laughter. “You’re cute when you smile like that.”

He positively flushes, because, wow, Dave actually thinks he’s _cute_. Not exactly skilled at receiving compliments, Hal waves a hand, embarrassed. “Oh, come on. ‘Cute’. Like I’m a teenage girl or something.”

“I had your dick in my mouth a couple hours ago. Pretty positive you’re not a girl. Unless you haven’t told me something yet.” His partner squawks, and Dave shoots forward into a crouch, knocking Hal’s legs off his lap, suddenly close to his face. He cups his neck, his jaw, leans in for a quick kiss. “Still cute.”

“Don’t make fun of me,” Hal mumbles into his mouth, steals a few more kisses.

Dave nips his lower lip. “Maybe if I say it enough you’ll actually believe me someday.” He’d like the blushing to continue, wonders how far down it could go. 

The laptop chirps again, grabs Hal’s attention. They can’t ignore the world forever, after all, still so much work to be done after the tanker catastrophe. Planning their next move. Luckily, Dave seems to notice his attention scattering, sets his feet back on the floor, arms folded over his head in a stretch.

“I’m gonna go for a run. Let you back to your computer. I think it’s getting jealous.”

“It missed me. Someone else has been hoarding all of my time, after all.” Hal smiles again, unable to help himself, then tugs the computer into his lap. Dave rolls his eyes, fondly, disappears into the bedroom to change.

It’s strange-- Hal’s eyes follow him off, and it’s the furthest physical space they’ve had between them in 24 hours. He doesn’t feel that distance. They’re closer, now, than ever before, and Dave keeps giving him these peeks deeper down inside of him. He just wants to know everything, doesn’t want to stop talking. Still, the codec’s out, they don’t want to make too much noise over the network.

He starts thinking. How could he go about creating a constant line of communication between them, without emitting too much over the airwaves? He opens up a new file, starts brainstorming, because it probably couldn’t be that hard, could it? They already have the nanomachines, he’d just have to change--

Hal doesn’t startle when Dave’s suddenly in front of him in sweats, a beanie pulled low on his head, shifting from foot to foot. Restless, then. “Be back in a bit.”

He has this urge to lean down and kiss Hal goodbye, but this is still new enough that he’s not sure if that would be acceptable or not. Luckily, Hal seems to get his trepidation, reaches forward with clammy fingers to take his hand, instead. A quick squeeze, a smile. Breathtaking.

There’s no sense in warning his partner to stay away from the road-- he already knows. Instead, Hal hums, thumb running over the back of Dave’s knuckles. “Don’t keep me waiting too long.”

Dave smirks, knowingly. “I won’t.”

He breezes out the door, a ghost, like he’d never been there in the first place.

Hal works.

And works.

And works. At least until he hears the door swing open, Dave barreling through, already pulling off his sweaty workout gear on the way to the shower. He checks the clock, wow, two hours already gone, before his eyes follow Dave’s path, notes the open door, the sound of the water starting.

He’s off the couch after only a few moments, wandering over to the bathroom, the barest amount of doubt left in himself as his hands meet the door frame. He wouldn’t leave the door so wide if it wasn’t an an invitation. They’d spent enough time together naked, anyway, but somehow in the daylight it feels more real. He just wants to look, anyhow. Mostly. Maybe.

“Kinda hoped you’d follow,” says Dave, regardless, as Hal slots through the door, bearing a sheepish look. Dave leans forward to put his head under the spray, water sluicing down his back and shoulders, washing the sweat away. The curtain’s completely pushed back, baring his body completely to Hal’s watchful gaze, anticipating. “See something you like?”

“I am here for research purposes, only.” Hal firmly nods, pushes up his glasses, managing to keep a mostly serious expression for all of a second. Dave rolls his eyes, slides his hands through his hair, back curving ever so slightly. 

Hal’s gaze trails down the length of his spine, his slim waist, the white scars of knife wounds long healed, before landing on the firm flesh of his ass. He’d like to sink his teeth into it, maybe spread him and use his mouth for other things. His face heats, and he mostly blames it on the steam of the shower, and yet, lets his eyes trail lower, caressing the hard muscle of his thighs, his calves. He could probably crush a man’s head between those thighs. Probably had, at one point. God, why does that turn him on, for some reason? He’s got to be sick.

The backs of his knees just look so sensitive. Soft. He wonders if Dave is ticklish anywhere.

“So you just came in here to voyeur?” 

Dave turns to face him, hands hanging at his sides. His cock thickens out as he looks at Hal, watches his gaze travel over the expanse of flesh bared to him. He flexes his stomach, accentuating the muscles, the stark edges of his obliques. Takes in Hal’s reaction, the nervous shift of his hands, how he sucks his lower lip between his teeth. Nice.

“I told you. Research. On… uh,” He squints, glasses fogging, “the physics of water on organic planes.” Dave scoffs, slides a hand down the dips of his stomach, then lower. “Although it might require some hands-on analysis.”

“Hands-on, huh.” His fingers curl around the base of his dick, where it’s darkening and filling out between his legs. “Can you get in here already?” 

“Well, I guess. If you insist.” Hal’s absolutely feigning disinterest, trying to play off like he doesn’t want to put his hands all over his partner’s slick, wet body. His sarcasm earns him a growl from Dave, at least. He reaches for the hem of his shirt, feels a little weird with Dave staring at him like that, but he tries his best not to turn away. Even if he can’t quite meet his eyes. 

Noting the discomfort, not wanting to push, Dave turns his head back into the water, watches from his peripherals as Hal flings off the rest of his clothing, leaves it in a bunched pile on the scuffed up linoleum. Hears Hal bang his elbow against the side of the glass as he stumbles into the shower stall, the swear that follows. Typical. 

Hal isn’t sure what to do with his hands when presented with the expanse of Dave’s back and shoulders, for all of one second. Wrapping around him from behind seems like the best option, gets the front of his hair wet from the spray, forehead gently setting down against the base of Dave’s neck. He’s blind, anyway, wants to feel more than see. He breathes in the hot steam, like being cleansed from the inside, one hand running over the smooth muscle of Dave’s pecs, the other trailing across his abs.

His cock rests against the swell of Dave’s ass, and he can’t help but push his hips a little bit against him, chest flat against his back. “Your body is insane,” he blurts, as Dave’s hand comes down to grasp his wrist, urging it downward. Hal’s knuckles bump the base of his dick, before wrapping around it, giving him a few experimental strokes. “I always knew you were incredible, but jeez. This--”

“Mm. I hope your thorough analysis is providing you with some hard facts, doc.” 

“You’re not funny,” Hal laughs, tightening his grip, twisting his wrist at the tip. He isn’t used to asking for what he wants, but oh. Maybe he can stand to be a little selfish. “Turn around and kiss me.”

And Dave does, pivoting to face him, pulling him under the spray of water. They kiss under the stream, and Dave can taste the metallic water on his tongue, beyond that, coffee and something so unique to Hal that he can’t quite place. He locks his mouth over Hal’s, divests him of all his breath, tongue pushing relentlessly against his. Hal’s hand reaches between them, finds his cock again, pumping him steadily.

Hal’s nerves start up again, but he wants to do this, pulls his mouth away with a soft noise of suction. Dave’s watching him through hooded eyes, follows his descent as he sinks down to his knees, hand going to the top of his head, threading through his hair. “Fuck.” 

He twitches in Hal’s palm, a groan leaving him as a curious tongue flicks out against the head of his cock, tasting, curious. It’s not like Hal hadn’t put his mouth on every part of him the night before, but he doesn’t think the sight is going to get old anytime soon.

“So I--ah, I actually really like… doing this,” Hal confesses, breath catching in his throat. He licks down the side of Dave’s cock, presses his nose against the base, mouth shoved up against his balls. Lukewarm water trickles down his forehead, narrowly avoids his eyes, lashes glinting with moisture. “So you don’t need to be gentle.”

Lust surges through him, and fuck, Dave wants to unfold every kink, find out every secret desire. He’d always known that Hal had somewhat obscure interests, given the reaction to being forcefully choked. He wants to find out more. Wants to drag it out of him, make him come hard, fuck the breath out of him.

Dave’s hand slides down the side of his face, cups his jaw, tilting his head slightly upward. “I don’t need to, or you don’t _want_ me to?” 

Hal’s hooded gaze meets his, charged with lust. “I don’t want you to.”

His thumb moves to his chin, presses up against the side of his lips. He opens, slightly, and Dave slips the tip into his mouth. Hal seals his lips over it, sucks hard, a shot of arousal striking through him at the positively smoldering look in his partner’s eyes. 

He fists Hal’s hair in his free hand, pulls him off his finger with a soft pop. Curls his hand around his own cock, brings it to the other man’s mouth, guiding it towards him. Hal accepts him willingly, eyes closing with a flutter, working his mouth wider to take the girth of his dick between his lips. 

“Can I fuck your face?” Dave asks, breath starting to come harder now, his hips rocking a shallow rhythm against his lips. Hal moans eagerly, the noise muffled against the flesh in his mouth, but the raw need there makes him move.

He reaches for Hal’s scrabbling hands, plants them flat against his hips. “Tap out if you need to. I’ll stop.” His own fingers thread back through that mop of ashen hair, tighten, dragging him forward, other hand holding the base of his cock steady as he starts to fuck. 

It would be easy to lose himself to this, to the heat of Hal’s mouth, his open expression. Dave holds firmly onto his self-control, doesn’t push too hard or too far, just enough to make him feel dominated, fucked out. Watches for any sign of distress or discomfort. There’s moisture in the corners of Hal’s mouth, lips tight, the swell in the side of his cheek as Dave’s cock drives forward into him. The constant, needy noises are enough to make his balls pull up tight, but he forces himself to take deep breaths, rasping low in his throat as he adjusts his grip, pushes deeper into the warm wetness of Hal’s throat.

It earns him a choking noise, pleasure rippling up his spine, but Hal doesn’t stop, works his jaw wider to take him deeper. Hal sucks hard around the length of him, shifts forward on his knees, fingers digging hard into his thighs. The water’s gone cold on his shoulders, teeth bared as he strains to hang on, hips moving, Hal breathing hard through his nose. 

He pushes forward until he feels Hal’s nose against his fingers, still firm at the base of his dick, covering the area Hal can’t reach, the saliva and sweat there on his stubbled upper lip. The shift of his throat as he desperately tries not to gag, those heaving breaths, thighs shaking with the effort of holding himself up on the tile. Dave clenches his jaw hard, teeth grit, his hips jerking hard until he has no choice but to let go, mind blanking, his chin dropping to his chest as he spills himself into that hot, sucking mouth.

Hal sputters, backs off, manages to swallow most of his load. Some of it ends up on his lips and chin, before he wipes it off with the back of his hand. 

He leans back on his heels, looks up, panting, before his partner tugs him back to his feet, leaning in for a kiss. Dave all but sags into him, makes a low, pleased sound, standing there in the cooling water, tangled up in one another again.

It’s not until after, when he’s attempting to button his pants, that he finally gets a good look in the mirror. Up the length of his throat, on either side, dark purple marks blossom like ugly flowers against his pale skin. Hal runs a finger over them, curious. He likes being marked by Dave, wants to wear those love-bites like a brand. 

Dave slides up behind him, watches him over his shoulder with a penetrating stare, following the journey of Hal’s fingertips with his eyes. “Hn. Got a little carried away. Sorry.” 

“No you aren’t,” Hal shoots back, though the smile on his face betrays his lack of mirth.

Hands settle at his waist, fever hot even through the fabric of his shirt, a mouth at the back of his neck. “Not even a little.” Another kiss over one of those deep bruises on the side of his throat. “I had to stake my claim over whoever taught you to suck dick like that.”

His _claim_. Hal laughs, feeling a little embarrassed, because oh, right, he’d totally brought that up of his own volition. “Ha. Right. You, ah… remember those LAN parties I mentioned awhile back?”

Dave laughs airily against his neck, holds him closer, still bared skin damp against his back. “Not sure why I don’t find that very surprising.”

“A bunch of drunk, horny nerds in the experimental college phase, in a room full of computers with open-access to all of the internet porn the late 90’s could handle? You don’t say.” Hal scoffs, playfully. “Not like you have much competition.”

It’s not like there’s anyone else who knows him so thoroughly. Ever. Who understands him, is able to open up such dark, secret places inside of him. It doesn’t compare.

Hal bites his lip, meets Dave’s half-shut eyes in the mirror. “You’ve got me.”

“I know.”

* * *

There’s computer equipment strewn all over the floor, a newly thrifted laptop running through the BIOS configurations perched on the coffee table. Hal is a man consumed, tabbing through options and settings, configuring his newest addition to the family, cobbled together of various Frankenstein parts. 

It’s past late, into the early hours of the morning. Over the last week, the days just seem to stretch into infinity, blend and blur. With the low sun hanging for hours into the evening, they can’t seem to move too far from the bed, too far from one another, and thus work seems to be left late into the night. Midnight talks, cigarettes and kisses, sleepy smiles. Too much coffee.

He pokes around on his primary laptop, overlooks some schematics. The modifications for the codec really aren’t that far out of reach. He just needs to bring it up with Dave. He’ll more than likely say yes.

“Knew I’d find you awake.”

Speak of the devil. “Hey.” Hal looks up for half a second, beckons him over. “I want to show you something.”

Dave approaches, interest piqued. He steps over square plots of screws, tools, computer looking things, folds himself down onto the sofa next to Hal. There are dark circles under his partner’s eyes, yet they burn with pure focus, obsession, something that Dave has a hard time resisting. 

“Okay. Go.”

“So I was thinking about our comms system, and I came up with an idea I thought I should run by you.” He opens up a browser window, starts typing. “You know a little bit about how the codec works, right?”

“Uh. Nanomachines?” Dave shrugs, non-committal. “Something like that.”

“I guess if you bring it down to bare bones, yeah, but there’s a lot more to it.” Hal smiles, brings up a moving graph of their codec data from the night of the tanker. “Basically, it’s a real-time burst transmission that codifies, compresses and transmits data in an instant. It directly stimulates the small bones of your ear, and you don’t need to physically speak to return communication. It can send photos, websites, HD video straight from your optic nerve to your nanomachines-- crazy advanced tech. But you already know all that, don’t you. 

“The only issue is that bursting from one frequency to another causes a tiny but visible network blip when it contacts the satellite. If someone were smart enough, they could probably localize the signal.”

He scrolls the graph back to an instance where there’s a sharp change in the graph, taps the screen. “Right there. That’s where we connected via uplink that night, and our eavesdropper was able to detect us, calculate our frequency and listen in.”

“Yeah, but the codec’s still our best bet for covert communications.”

“I know that, Dave. I’m hardly going to suggest you carry around a cell phone so you can text me on missions. ‘LOL I blew up Metal Gear, smilie face’. Jeez.” He opens up another window, blows up a spreadsheet. “I was doing some experimenting and ah… calculating some diagnostics and I thought you might be interested in my findings.”

“I’m listening.” 

“Okay, give me a minute.” He adjusts a few dials, uncomments some code, compiles it. “Just have to… aha!” 

When it finishes, he looks at Dave with a neutral expression, mouth unmoving. “Oh, hey, looks like it worked. Huh, guess I was right! Wow.”

He’s suddenly aware of Hal’s voice in his head, reverberating through his ears, even if his partner isn’t speaking. The codec isn’t anything new, but usually he has to click in to accept the call. Interesting. “Hm. Okay. Hal, what exactly did you change?”

“Oh, I didn’t actually really _change_ anything about the functionality, per se. That’s the beauty of it, really! I altered some of the basic framework, though, so I’m sharing my frequency with you. We’re both at 141.12, right now, actually.”

“Huh.”

“Yup. It was actually pretty quick to code, way easier than I thought it’d be. I’ve gotta hand it to Mei Ling, the codec system is a really nifty little app.” 

Hal beams, immediately stops the transmission on the laptop, resumes speaking out loud. “But anyway. Since it’s an internal connection, it limits the contact to the master server-- just streams directly from my nanos to yours. The range is shorter, sure, but I think it’s a little more secure because we’re limiting the access points.” 

He adjusts his glasses, brings up the smokeping analytics, where their network remains completely stable, no physical representation of their transmission visible whatsoever. “The only thing, is that it gives us continuously open, two-way access between each other, as long as I’ve opened up all the ports.”

“So, what, you can talk to me whenever you want? And vice versa.” 

Dave is staring at him, again, and his skin heats from the attention. He looks down, types a little more, comments out some redundant code. “Ah yeah. The issue is, and I haven’t exactly QA’d this entirely, theoretically, that stray thoughts, emotions, optical connections could have the potential to transmit without user input due to the open nature of the connection. Sort of like a memory leak on a standard OS. Which is. Yeah. Oh, and you can’t reject a call, either.” 

His gaze flashes back to Dave, eyes alight with confidence. “I wanted to ask you if that was okay with you. It gives us a constant link, which I think could be beneficial, especially on a mission, but the nature of the connection. I just. I wanted to make sure.”

Dave considers for a moment, reaches into his pocket for his smokes. He lights up, leans back. “If you think it’s a good idea, then sure.” Hal nods, starts making some changes. Dave watches him, interested, decides to speak his mind a little more. “Kinda like the idea of hearing what you’re thinking. Feeling what you feel.” He feels a little weird admitting he’s interested in another person’s feelings, but it’s just Hal. The only person he can trust.

“Ah. I-- me too.” Hal looks over at him, offers a lopsided smile, eyes light. “I told you, I haven’t QA’d it all the way, so it could be a fluke. But hang on--” He clicks a few times, rapid-fire, “Okay, I’ve opened up all the ports again so we’re on the same frequency. Of course, you still have your own, but now we can freely swap between each other’s connections. And if you, uh, change your mind, for any reason, I have backups of Mei Ling’s source code.”

“Nerd.”

“You like it.” 

It’s not until the early dawn hours, long after he’s been dragged to bed that he gets to see his design in action. 

Hal wakes up alone, face buried in the pillow, Dave long gone for a morning run, as per usual. There’s a vague memory of the warmth leaving him, an attempt to pull his partner back into bed. Words of reassurance. He yawns, rolling onto his side.

Moments later, an image loads into the codec screen, pixelating into existence within his mind. The sun breaking over the nearby lake, gold and warm and gauzy, dewy in the late summer air. A little out of focus. Dave’s voice in his head, spreading through his consciousness, rooting into the deepest recesses of his brain, like he’d always just been there. 

“Good morning. Thought you might appreciate seeing the sunrise at least once in your lifetime.”

He paws at the end table, knocks his glasses onto the floor. “Gah.” He rolls himself to the edge of the bed to retrieve them, finally sliding them on his face as he sits up. “I mean, hi. How could you tell I was awake?”

“Dunno. Just... felt you, I guess.”

Hal hums, thoughtfully. “That’s interesting. When you get back I’ll have to take down some of your observations, I want to do a more in-depth report and analysis. Haha, wow, I can’t believe it, I didn’t think the capabilities were--”

“Hal. Just. Look out the damn window.”

He blinks, turns towards the window. Pulls back the curtain. He can’t see much through the crop of trees, pink light, blossoming through the shades of green. The leaves sway gently in the breeze, and it’s calm. Peaceful. 

“Wanted you to see with your own eyes. It’s beautiful.”

Hal inhales slowly, light catching the side of his face.

“Huh. It really is.”

* * *

“‘You know what? You have the power to make people happy’.”

His translations are a little loose and lazy, but he’s getting sleepy, can’t focus as well as usual with the hands in his hair, Dave’s constant, absent-minded touching of his neck and jaw. His thigh makes a good pillow as he’s laid out along the sofa, and he can’t help but let his eyes shut for a moment, as Dave’s fingers graze the sensitive skin of his throat. 

“You falling asleep on me?” Dave asks, voice husky and warm. Hal sniffs, eyes opening, finding Dave peering down at him. “Hn. Just when it was finally getting interesting.”

 _Coffee Prince_ had been something he’d quietly started on his own to watch while crawling through the mounds of data he’d managed to ruthlessly steal, looking for any trace of Ocelot, trying to make heads or tails of what the Patriots are, but for whatever reason Dave had needled him into sharing it with him. 

No subtitles, so it’d mostly fallen on him to commentate the experience, which had then more or less devolved into trying to teach Dave Korean, Dave helping him with his Japanese, then Russian, discussions entirely in French over coffee and slightly burnt toast. Signing, in case of a situation where verbal communication isn’t possible, Dave’s eyes tracing every movement of his fingers, which in turn had devolved into some particularly enthusiastic blowjobs.

“Ah… sorry. We can back up a bit.” He goes to reach for the laptop, but Dave’s hands keep him firmly planted in his lap.

“Don’t worry about it. Hard enough trying to get you to relax most of the time.” 

“Then why’d you say anything at all? Leave me alone,” he replies, with only a hint of sarcasm. Dave prods him in the chest playfully, makes him squirm. “Hey!” 

So maybe he’d just wanted Hal’s attention. Just for a little while longer. Even though they literally spend every waking moment together, and idle talk isn’t really his thing, Dave wants to know everything.

“So you never did tell me,” Dave starts, observing the careful flutter of Hal’s eyelashes, the soft sigh he releases, “why you decided to learn Korean. Is it like an anime nerd thing? Or.”

Hal blinks back at him for a moment, before this bashful look pulls over his face. “Ah… well. It’s kind of a long story. Well, not a long story, but just… a _stupid_ story, really.” 

“So tell me.” 

He groans, hiding his face in his hand. “I’m gonna sound like the world’s biggest jackass.”

“Not sure that’s accurate. I can cosign maybe… fourth or fifth biggest jackass. In the entire world. But not the biggest.”

“You’re a dick.”

“Come on. Tell me.”

Hands sliding down to rest on his thin chest, Hal huffs, looks up at the ceiling. His glasses bear smudge marks and fingerprints, low on the bridge of his nose. “Okay. Uh. But no making fun of me!”

“No promises.”

“Ugh. Okay… where to start.” 

A tongue slots out to wet his lips, searching for the words, and Dave can’t help but start his fingers moving in Hal’s hair, again, wants to make him feel good. Likes pulling those little, happy noises out of him. God, he’s never wanted something so badly in his life, nailed those feelings down every time. It should be embarrassing, yet here he is, eagerly awaiting another one of Hal’s awkward, endearing stories with something close to anticipation in his chest.

“It was when I was at the FBI. I didn’t know how to talk to people at all, sort of just… avoided it as best as I could. I tried to stick to just email, over the phone, and luckily most of my stuff was code based, so I didn’t have to deal with social interaction all that much. It didn’t bother me a lot until I saw my peers getting invited to drinks after work. So I would just stay and do a bunch of OT, try to impress everyone with my work.”

“And to look for aliens.”

“Hey! Come on.” Hal squints up at him, amused, before continuing. “Anyway, there was this… girl.” He gets a little red in the cheeks, looks away, shy.

Dave snorts. “Of course. So what about her?” 

“She was in the CTD, a senior language analyst. Her name was Soh-I.” Hal muses for a moment, the memories starting to percolate, the shape of her eyes as she smiled, the strands of baby hair that would always hang out of her ponytail. “Sometimes, I’d be in charge of intercepting data from NK, and she’d be my hand-off.

“I mostly contacted her through email, kept it really professional. I had no idea what to say to her. But I’d see her around, sometimes she’d come by and talk to some of the other analysts-- she had an old friend that sat a few desks away from me. They’d joke, and laugh, and I’d sit at my computer with my headphones in, not on, and just… listen in on them. Gah, thinking about it now, it was probably a little creepy.”

Hal’s brows crease, and Dave feels something wash over him, a little sad, nostalgic. Interesting. Emotional transference, maybe, he’ll have to ask Hal about it later. For now, though, he doesn’t want to stop his partner’s train of thought, waits for him to continue.

“Anyway, one day she was waiting for her friend. They were going out drinking. She was always wearing this suit jacket, and it was a little too big in the shoulders. Like it was gonna swallow her up. I was the only one left in the office besides him, and she started talking to me while he was finishing up. She saw one of the figurines I had at my desk… Asuka. She said it was so cool, she liked _Evangelion_ too, and asked me where I got it.” Hal smiles, this sad thing. “I think, right then, I thought I was in love with her.”

Love. It isn’t like they haven’t talked circles around the nature of love, haven’t had discussions about the hypotheticals, but for some reason, the word on Hal’s lips in reference to a specific person makes Dave tense, if only for a moment. Hal doesn’t seem to notice his sudden edge, at least, too lost in the past again.

“But she left with her friend. They were speaking together in a language I didn’t understand. I wanted a way to get closer to her. So, after they left, I started looking up classes I could take. I would spend hours at night practicing, studying.”

“So let me get this straight,” says Dave, brushing Hal’s hair back off his face. Hal looks up at him, suddenly focused, in the present. “You became fluent in another language just to impress some girl at work?”

“Y-yeah.”

“And... was she impressed?”

“Well, that’s the thing is uh. I never actually _did_ talk to her. I could never work up the nerve, and then she got assigned to another analyst.” His shoulders pull up in a loose shrug, his hands threading together on his chest. “I just kept practicing hoping one day she’d talk to me again, and I could surprise her with my knowledge, and that she’d see how dedicated I was. That she’d fall in love with me, too. But she never did.” 

Dave hums, not quite ready to voice his thoughts aloud. 

“Isn’t that funny? That I couldn’t even just go up and talk to her. I was so afraid of looking stupid, or that she would reject me. That I’d ruin everything… like I did before.” His brows furrow in thought. “I was so naive. I just held onto this idea of who she was, what I thought she would do, and fell in love with that. It was easier to keep her at a distance so she couldn’t hurt me, I guess. That isn’t what love is. Not at all. I understand that now, at least.”

Dave’s fingers walk down Hal’s neck, to his hands, where he takes hold of his fingers, twines them with his own. “Something change your mind?”

“I had a lot of time to think about it in Alaska.” 

“Hn. Wolf, right?”

Hal pauses for a moment, then nods. “Yeah.”

“What was she like? With you.”

He winces. “Well, mostly, she scared the shit out of me. More than any person I’d ever met before. She was pretty much, uh, ambivalent to the engineering team, but I remember the sound of her boots as she’d walk through the office. All of us would just look at our computers until the noise stopped, until she was gone. 

“I remember one day... I was walking back to the office after a meeting, and I saw her outside with one of her dogs. She didn’t look… happy, I don’t think, but. There was something about her eyes. This lightness. 

“The next time she came to the office, she brought her rifle. Cleaned and loaded it right on the table in front of all the engineers. We were running tight on the deadline, I think it was their way of keeping us on track. A threat. Since I was the project lead, I always stayed the latest, and it was just us.”

He smiles, then, pulls his knees up until his feet are flat on the sofa. “I thought about what I wanted to say to her for an entire hour. Practiced it over and over. When I finally looked over, she was watching me. I just blurted out the word ‘Dog’. I fucking. I looked her dead in the eyes, and all I could say was ‘Dog’.”

“Christ, Hal. You ladykiller.” 

The darkness of his joke is not lost on either of them, given the fact that he’d killed the lady in question. Dave reaches for his smokes, not wanting to linger, not wanting to sour the mood. 

“Well. I’m surprised she didn’t hit me in the face.” Hal laughs, airily, the nostalgic tone bleeding through his voice. “She just looked at me. For awhile. Then dragged me out to the quad, actually, literally dragged me. I thought she might kill me. Instead, she gave me this giant bag of raw meat and said, ‘You do it’. I just stood there like an asshole trying not to cry.

“I had no idea what she was talking about until the dogs came over and started sniffing. She wanted me to feed them. She was… sharing that with me. She loved those dogs.” 

Dave flicks his lighter a few times, can’t get it started. Hal sighs, finally sits upright, running a hand through his messy hair. He doesn’t move too far, stays propped against Dave’s side, scowling as he finally lights his cigarette. 

“So she was what changed your mind?” he asks, breathing smoke. 

“Initially, I suppose,” murmurs Hal, more than a little pragmatic. Dave doesn’t press for more, not yet, at least. Unspoken, for now. “I just realized... I couldn’t just wait and hope that someone would come along and just love me. It doesn’t work like that. Not at all.”

Dave nods, stares straight ahead. The smoke hangs heavy over them in the low light. Inside, something slow and sleepy awakens. New and indescribable. 

“Every day after that, I’d offer to take care of her dogs. She’d stand there, silent, watching me play with them. Their fur was so soft, you’d never have any idea they’d been trained to kill on sight. 

“One day, out of nowhere, she asked me; ‘Why are you here?’ I answered her with what I thought was right. That I was trying to get to know her. She said, ‘No. Shadow Moses.’

“‘Why are you here?’ I couldn’t give her the answer she wanted. Back then, I didn’t know what she meant. I had no idea.”

“So why _were_ you there?” 

Hal turns his head, looks away, before facing Dave. His eyes flick to his lips, the cigarette gone dead in his hands, back up to his eyes, so clear, so full of desire. A need to understand.

“Because... I was empty inside.” His hands unfold before him, and he looks down at them, his slender palms and the white tips of his fingers. The blood on them, imagined, unseen. “I thought that building REX would fill the void. That maybe I could make myself into the type of man my father would be proud of. Like somehow that would undo everything that happened.”

Dave’s breath hitches in his chest. 

“But I had it all wrong. Life isn’t about legacy. It isn’t about leaving physical proof of your pride on the world. That’s too short-sighted.” He closes his hands, like he’s holding onto something that he can’t place. 

“I think… it’s about leaving the world the way it is. About sharing your experience. A moment can’t last a lifetime. We all die. But the memories can live on, in other people.”

He finds Hal’s hand with his own, threads their fingers together. Watches him, carefully, as Hal meets his gaze. There’s this feeling just pulsating between them, thick and heady, too strong to ignore. His chest feels tight, something so strange and unknown to him, but every second spent with Hal brings him closer to understanding. 

Dave can’t help himself, slides his free hand up Hal’s neck, pulls him closer. Catches his lips with his own, Hal sighing into his mouth, instantly swept away. 

“You changed everything for me,” Hal murmurs, between kisses, fingers curled in Dave’s hair, “I was always so alone.”

He can’t find the words, can’t voice them, just puts all those feelings into Hal with his tongue, his teeth, his lips, hopes he can feel what he feels. Hopes it goes beyond language. Clings to it like it’s his only lifeline.

They stumble into the bedroom with some effort, unable to stop kissing, stop touching, only long enough to pull a shirt off, catching on Hal’s glasses, leaving them askew. The door bangs hard as it swings open, bedsprings creaking when Dave pushes Hal down, covers him with his own body, finds his mouth again.

Hal’s body is instantly reactive underneath him with every touch, Dave pulling his own shirt up and off, and he’s so hot like he might be burning up inside. He settles his bare chest down onto Hal’s, their skin finally, achingly touching, wants to get so close they could become one person. He can feel his presence inside his head, this sensation curling around the recesses of his brain, holding him steady, like a prelude, like a promise.

There’s urgency, Hal wants to be naked, slides a hand between them for Dave’s zip. Tugs it open with some difficulty, then reaches around behind him to push his pants and underwear down his ass. Dave nips his lower lip, rolls off of him. He arches his hips off the bed to push them down his legs, Hal rising to his knees alongside him, making short work of his own clothing, until they’re finally, gloriously naked, all over each other, a mess of limbs in the long expanse of the bed, centered, everywhere.

“Come here,” Dave rasps, flat on his back, trying to pull him closer. Hal kisses his way up Dave’s neck, his face, hovering over him on his elbows, trying to touch every bit of skin he can reach. “Yeah.” His leg slips between Dave’s, and he pushes his thigh up against him, the length of his cock hot against his hip. 

Dave’s hands settle on the tips of his shoulders, run down the length of his back to grab his ass, urging him forward. Hal centers himself between Dave’s legs, feet finding purchase in the rumpled sheets beneath. They rock together like that for a moment, Dave pulling his legs up to catch Hal’s hips between the solid muscle of his thighs, helping him move.

Their kisses turn messy and frantic with the tension building in the room, sweltering, pushing at the walls and ceiling. Dave reaches between them, curls his hand around Hal’s erection, starts working him with firm strokes. Hal groans, pulls his mouth away to suck in some much-needed breath, pushes his face into the juncture of Dave’s throat, feels the hammering of his pulse there. 

“Hah, fuck,” Hal mumbles, pushing his hips into Dave’s hand. His other hand slides over Hal’s shoulder, slides down to curve against the back of his neck, pressing down hard. “What do you--”

“Could you fuck me a little?” Dave’s voice, husky in his ear, the words alone enough to send a shot of arousal down to his toes, makes him buck into the touch, God, he could come just hearing that and oh, Dave actually wants to be _fucked_. For some reason, the idea of Dave beneath him like that, willingly vulnerable for him, open, makes his dick harder than anything else. 

He backs up onto his hands and knees, his glasses crooked on his face, looks down at his partner’s dark eyes. Dave’s regarding him with a measured stare, pupils blown wide, tongue flicking out to wet his lips. “Yeah?” Hal asks, feeling like a fucking idiot, but he wants to make sure he heard right. This is new territory for them, so far, and he’d always imagined it the other way around, at least at first.

“Yeah.”

“Wow. Uh, okay.” All of a sudden his face is burning, cock suddenly hard enough to fuck through concrete. He pushes his glasses up his nose, tries to remember where he’d put the lube and condoms he’d blushed through buying on his last trip to the outside world, catches his leg in the bedsheet as he stumbles out of the bed on his quest. “Shit-- uh, be right back!”

Of course it’s in the last place he’d expect, the fucking entryway in an abandoned plastic bag of all things, and he feels ridiculous walking back to the bedroom with his dick hard and sticking straight out from his scrawny body, feels terribly self-aware. It all quickly drops into the background as he re-enters the bedroom, finds Dave on his back, knees up, one hand holding his cock and balls out of the way, the other lower, moving, his face blissed out in concentration. 

“Hey! You getting started without me?” He drops onto his hands and knees as he hits the bed, the bottle of lube and a strip of condoms abandoned to the side. “Not fair.” He crawls forward until he’s between Dave’s spread thighs and reaches for his cock, takes over, stroking him as his gaze trails lower between his legs.

Dave’s already got his middle finger steadily moving inside him, wet with spit, to the second knuckle. He chuckles, moves his free hand to hook under his leg, spreading himself wider. “So you want me to stop?”

“I didn’t say that.” His face still feels ridiculously hot, the hand not busy with Dave’s cock groping his inner thigh, his balls, rolling them in his palm before gently twisting his hand to push his thumb against Dave’s perineum. “Gah, that’s really hot.”

A deep, pleased sound. “Want to help me out?”

Dave is regarding him patiently, and it’s so addicting to see him at ease like that, fingering himself, makes Hal pause for a minute as his brain tries to piece together what he needs to do, body quicker on the uptake as he reaches for the lube. With a bit of fumbling he manages to get his fingers slick, takes Dave’s cock in hand again. He slides the fingers of his free hand under his balls, until he’s pressing against the lowest entrance of his body, meets the finger already there.

When he starts to withdraw, Hal makes a low noise, murmurs, “No, don’t take it out.” The pad of his finger meets some resistance, but he’s patient, knows the feeling himself, when it’s wet and forgiving enough for him to ease inside. Feels the stretch, how hot Dave is, and he already wants so badly to just fuck his way in there, and Dave could probably, would probably take it.

He meets Dave’s teasing, cautionary rhythm for a time, watches the tightness of his muscles, the nuances of his expression as he works his hands. He’s breathing hard through gritted teeth, neck straining to watch, and he groans as Hal nudges his wrist out of the way to take over, sliding in a second finger to replace his. 

This angle lets him push in deeper, the tendons in his wrist tensing with the effort. Hal crooks his fingers, flicks his eyes up to Dave’s face to soak in his expression as he searches for that spot inside he knows will evoke a desired reaction and, ah, _there_ , the sudden furrow of Dave’s brow, the way he throws an arm over his face to release a groan into his skin. His dick is steadily leaking precum against Hal’s knuckles, his ass tensing around his other fingers, pulling him inward.

“Feels good, right?” he asks, laughs as he hears the answering growl, muffled in the corner of Dave’s elbow. His hips are pushing back against his fingers, encouraging him, and Hal switches his grip on his cock, can’t get a good angle, gives up and mostly plays with the head. The pads of his fingers pull away slick, and he can’t help himself, already leaning forward, the tops of his thighs slotting under Dave’s as he rocks up to meet him, hand trapped between their bodies, still moving inside of him. “Hey. Here.”

Dave’s arm slips down to lay over his head, regards Hal with wet lips and glassy eyes. His gaze flicks to Hal’s fingers, shiny and slick before him, accepting with a low noise, lets his partner slide his fingers into his mouth, tasting himself. He’s always known that Hal has a dirty streak, seen enough glimpses of his laptop, the library of porn, heard the half-joking remarks. He wants to pull that out of him, enable it, even if he’s getting impatient, wants him inside, wants to see him fall apart.

“I really don’t deserve you,” mumbles Hal, looking down upon the tight body underneath him, inside him in two ways. “Oh.” Dave sucks once, hard, gets up to his elbows to kiss him around the pads of his fingers, their tongues meeting through the gaps. Hal moans, cock twitching with interest, gets a nip to the fingertip as Dave leans back.

“Hal. Just fuck me already.”

“Ah… wow. Yeah.” Hal flushes, sits back on his heels, reaches for his own dick and gives it a few pumps as his fingers work deeper inside Dave. “ _Yeah_.” He’s meeting the skin between his fingers he’s so deep, hand tacky with lube, and it’s enough. God, they’re actually going to fuck.

He gives him a few last teasing presses in with his fingers, leans forward to give him a quick kiss. Reaching for the lube and condoms, he’s stopped by Dave’s broad palm on his bicep, turns to look. “I’m good without one if you are,” Dave says, flatly, and Hal blinks back at him for a moment, processing, before nodding, this jerky overexcited thing as he fumbles with the lube. It’s not like there’s anything else between them, at this point, and Dave would rather just feel him, wants to take him all in. 

“Ah… honestly I’m probably gonna embarrass myself,” Hal says, using his knuckles to push up his glasses, before slicking his cock with the lube. “I’m not exactly experienced at this.” 

“It’s fine. Put your dick in.”

There’s a smudge near the bridge of his nose, and he can’t really see for shit, but he’ll bear it to make out the open look on Dave’s face, his eyes alight with need. “On your back, like this? Or--”

“Yeah, I wanna see your face.”

His breath catches at Dave’s words, a smile tugging at his lips. “I-- yeah, me too.”

Dave slides his heels behind him, bringing him closer, Hal’s cock slipping between his legs. He reaches downward, cups his balls to shift them out of the way. Hal seems transfixed, finally running on instinct, takes his dick in a loose grip and pushes the tip of it against his ass, testing the resistance there. His other hand finds the inside of his thigh, spreads him wider. 

He forces himself to relax, but somehow the fact that it’s Hal fucking him makes it hard not to be too worked up. He exhales noisily, reaches for his dick, wraps his fingers around the head for something else to focus on. He just wants it to be good for him, a positive experience. Jesus, he’s not used to this.

Hal pushes in until just the tip fits inside, head bowing at the sudden rush of sensation, blood roaring in his ears. Dave’s hand slides up his arm, his voice, low and reassuring. “Come on.” He tries to go slow, but Dave’s body is so fucking tight around him, wet, and he doesn’t tell him to stop as he eases into his ass. Dave just breathes, chest labouring with the effort.

Hal comes down onto an elbow, framing Dave’s face, leaning over him. He’s already panting, trying to hold himself together. He could almost come right there when Dave cradles his throat in one strong palm, just enough to make it hurt to swallow, arcs up to kiss him with a ferocity in direct contrast to the stillness, makes Hal shudder and finally pull out slightly, push back in.

It’s a bit touch and go at first, as Hal struggles to move, but Dave plants his heels and fucks back onto him, deeper each time, the muscles in his thighs, his abs coiled tight as he flexes. They only stop kissing when it’s too difficult to breathe, Hal’s face slipping down against Dave’s shoulder, gasping into his skin, finally matching his rhythm.

Dave tenses experimentally, bites his lip at the noise Hal makes, urges him faster with his hands. His cock is steadily dripping precum onto the flat plane of his stomach, entire body wrought with tension, until Hal finally bottoms out inside of him, so deep he can feel it in his entire body. “Fuck--”

“Ah, I can’t--” The words catch in his chest as he thrusts harder, follows his body, tasting salt and sweat on Dave’s skin. There’s a hand on his ass driving him forward, and he gasps, pushes his forehead hard against Dave’s neck. Pressure builds at the very base of him, and he holds his breath, wanting to hang onto this moment for as long as he can.

There’s a hand under his clavicle, slides forward to settle at the base of his throat. He’s forced back up to his forearms, Dave meeting him with this penetrating stare, the muscle of his jaw surging. He can’t help but look back, and somehow it’s the thing that makes his body react, makes his dick pulse inside of him, Dave’s other hand coming up to thread through his hair, pulling it, baring his throat.

“Say my name when you come.” 

The request is all but growled out, and punches through him, makes his voice break, like lightning striking through him. The tension on his neck pushes him over the edge, and his orgasm starts like waves crashing over him, he manages to bite out, “ _David_ ”, eyes clenching shut, mouth wide.

Dave holds him up the entire time, doesn’t stop grinding against him, clenching, wanting to memorize every expression. Hal’s face is breathtaking, his glasses hanging off his face, unfocused with abandon. Something he’ll visualize with perfect recollection when he needs it most. 

He can feel it when the shaking finally stops, lets his partner crash bonelessly on top of him. Hal makes these small, pleased sounds, and Dave just listens, rubs a hand over his back, lets him come down from the high. 

Hal doesn’t take long to start, kisses his stubbled cheek before pulling up to his elbows with a huff. He reaches down between them, eases his softening dick out, cum leaking out in trails between Dave’s thighs. “Wow, that’s… man.” A thumb swipes through the spill, smearing it between his legs.

“Into it?”

He pauses. Frowns. “Yeah. Uh, a little too much.” He eyes Dave’s erection, still hard and heavy with blood, lying thick on his stomach. “You didn’t come.”

Dave’s cock twitches, and he reaches, moving Hal’s hand lower. “Not yet.”

He slides two fingers into Dave’s ass, easy and slick with his own fluid, then works his mouth down his body, pausing to tease a nipple along the way. His lips find Dave’s cock, and he licks over the head, starting to move his wrist again, already knowing the best angle to take. A quick study.

“Jesus-- fuck.” Dave’s stomach is clenched, feet flexing, hand desperately grabbing for Hal’s hair as he works his cock into his mouth, his fingers fucking steadily inward. He sucks fiercely, saliva pooling in the corner of his lips, before moving off, licking down the side of his cock, pulling one of Dave’s balls into his mouth.

Dave’s hand comes down again to touch himself as Hal switches tactics, and he’s panting, sweat beading at his temples as he hurtles closer to his peak. He watches Hal slip lower between his legs, nose pushed flat at the base of his dick, tongue swiping out to lick him. Dave slides an arm under his thigh, pulls his legs open, heel settling on Hal’s shoulder as he tongues lower.

His mouth meets the rim of his ass, and he tastes his own cum on his fingers, something else unique to Dave, the scent so deeply concentrated in this intimate part of him. He buries his face between his thighs, desperately fucking his fingers into him, so aroused by the idea of getting him off, of his own release being so deep inside of him. His tongue flicks out to taste, pushes in next to his fingers, feels the tensing of muscle around him. 

He’s barely aware when Dave actually starts to come, suddenly tensing around him, releasing with a wrecked noise, cum striping in arcs over his stomach, up his chest. His neck arches as it works through him, and Hal smiles in victory against the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, lets him ride it out.

“Fuck,” mutters Dave, lazily palming his dick once, lets his hand drop beside him. He releases a long, low breath as Hal eases his fingers out, reaches for the sheet to wipe them off, then finds his way back up Dave’s body, cleaning the ejaculate off of him with his tongue. “ _Fuck._ Come here.”

He laughs as he lands on Dave’s chest, shoulders coming up as he realizes he can’t look Dave in the eye. Isn’t sure he should kiss him after... _that_. 

“Gah. I uh. Probably... should’ve asked before I put my tongue in your ass. After coming inside of you. Hey.” His cheeks are so positively molten he might burn up inside, and he’s talking way too fast, because Dave always asks him before doing anything new, something he greatly appreciates, and he hadn’t afforded him the same courtesy. “Sorry, I shouldn’t assume, I just… you were so fucking hot, and--”

“Relax.” Dave’s arms curl around him, pull him almost too close, the breath whooshing out of him as he collapses on top of his partner. “Would tell you to stop if I wanted you to stop.”

“Okay, but moving forward I’ll, uh, bring stuff up beforehand. And we should come up with a safeword. For my own peace of mind.” He blinks. 

“Deal.” 

Hal rolls off, onto his side, squirms until he’s pillowed on Dave’s chest, feels this weird fluttery thing when Dave leans down and presses a rough kiss to his forehead. 

Dave’s quiet, for a moment, pensieve, before looking down at Hal and asking, “So you have a thing for cum, huh.”

“Shut up,” he mumbles, face smashed against Dave’s sweaty pectoral. Hal runs a hand over his ribs, lets his fingers settle in the rippled muscle of his obliques. “Ugh, okay, it is actually kind of a kink.” He stares straight ahead, maybe worries a little before admitting, “One of a… sum.”

“And eating ass.”

“Dave! Gah, why, well yeah, okay. And uh, both ways, if you want--”

“And also choking.” 

He laughs, embarrassed. “And also choking. Jeez, I’m really transparent, aren’t I?”

“Yes.” Dave reaches down, slides a finger over Hal’s pulse. He opens his neck to the touch reflexively, Dave’s fingers moving in slow circles on his skin. “I like it. The marks are nice.” 

“Ah.”

“If you ever want me to seriously choke you, though…” His hand grips on the back of Hal’s neck, the barest amount of force against the base of his skull, then releases. “We’ll need to test your limits outside of sex. I know mine, but I don’t want you to push yourself and overdo it.”

There’s a sense of dread in his gut, beyond that, excitement, an overwhelming sense of trust. He knows the rigid effectiveness of Dave’s body, knows the control he has over his own violence, and his dick gives one last feeble twitch at the mental image of being a willing victim to those hands. 

“Deal.” He forces himself to clear his throat, turns his face up to look at him. “I trust you.”

David’s clear eyes, and his warm, wicked smile. 

“Never get tired of hearing you say that.”

Again, breathlessly. 

“I trust you.”

* * *


	2. Strings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Nobody ‘deserves’ to be happy, Hal. Nobody ‘deserves’ anything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up... long. I apologize in advance (but not really). 
> 
> Standard warnings for Metal Gear logic, porn, fourth-wall jokes, and a healthy drizzle of cheese all over this particular chapter. 
> 
> Also a few little nods to MGSV. Heh.
> 
> Happy holidays, everyone.

“You’re actually trying to kill me.”

“By making you run for an hour?” 

“Down a hill. In the woods! What if there are, uh, _bears_.”

Hal attempts to grab onto a tree branch as they hit a steep incline, but his hand slips on the slick wood, sending him careening into Dave’s back. For his credit, Dave doesn’t budge, cranes forward to support his weight. “Who’s trying to kill who, here?”

“Sorry, sorry. You could’ve warned me before, I would’ve worn something better than sneakers. Yeesh.” He plants his hands flat on Dave’s shoulders, uses him to prop himself upright as they continue downward. 

“And miss out on all of your whining? I would never.”

“You’re such a jerk.” 

Dave laughs at him, warmly, and Hal can’t help but grin, steadying his steps against the rough terrain. They work their way down the incline with only marginally more complaining from Hal, and a slightly higher ratio of teasing from Dave, until they’re finally on mostly flat ground, trees shooting up from the earth around them, a bed of fallen leaves softening their step.

Teasing the endings of the early side of fall, the mid-afternoon sun hangs low above the tree line as they get closer to the water. Dave pauses to pass the canteen to Hal, who’s still visibly recovering from an extended bout of exercise, snorts at the mirthful expression he receives as it’s snatched out of his hand.

“You’re welcome.” 

“If I get a sunburn this is all on you.” He can already feel the tight skin over the bridge of his nose and cheeks. He’s never going to be the type of man to enjoy the outdoors, but for Dave’s carefree expression, he could probably be okay with venturing out into the perils of the outside world, once in awhile. 

They come up on the lake soon after, the water clear and still as it stretches on, boundless ahead of them. Dave pauses as they stop at the rocky shore, reaches into his pocket for his smokes. Even if Hal had a mostly consistent routine at his insistence, it’d taken weeks to wrangle him into making the trek down, if only because Hal was so sunk into their research. And also because Hal could be a classic complainer when it came to anything in nature. Making him help chop wood had been a real treat.

He lights his smoke as Hal adjusts his glasses, taking in the idyllic peace before them, so far removed from his usual world of information and integers. “Okay, I guess you’re right. This is really… something.” 

Dave looks over, cigarette dangling between his teeth, as Hal’s eyes soften, his face relaxes. It’s nice to see the tension leave his face, after watching him pour over his laptop day in and day out, the bright white light deepening the stress lines in his forehead. “Thanks for showing me.”

“Nice to look at something other than a screen, for once, right?” Dave shrugs, tries not to betray just how important this is to him. Decides that there’s no sense in hiding it. “Fuck knows you’ve shown me just about all the anime I can handle. Figured it was time for me to share.”

Hal opens his mouth, shuts it again. His eyebrows pull together in thought. “So that’s why you send me a picture every other morning. Ah. I see.” He turns to look at his partner, blinks furiously at the bite of smoke. “So you’re basically a nature fanboy. Jeez. I’ll buy you a figurine or something.” 

“Come on. You can’t deny that view.”

Hal chuckles, awkwardly steps closer until he can press himself up against Dave’s side, head leaning against his shoulder. Dave holds the cigarette away, wraps an arm around Hal’s back, stares out at the lowering sun, rays sending glimmers of reflected light over the water. 

“See, this,” Dave starts, wracking his brain for the words, “Whenever I need to think, this is what I look for.” 

“So you’ve been thinking a lot, then?”

He nods, Hal’s hair tickling along his neck, takes another drag. They stay like that, silent, for a long moment, until Hal leaves his side, crouches down to pick out some flat rocks from the score underfoot. He rises to his feet, moving tentatively closer to the still water, and Dave trails after him, wanting to be closeby.

Hal turns, looks at him, eyes sparkling with curiosity. “You gonna tell me what about?” He looks back to the first rock, brings it close to his face for inspection. Turns it to just the right angle, before hurling it at the water. It skips twice and sinks, producing a groan out of Hal, as he prepares the second. 

He flicks the ash off his cigarette, shoves his other hand in his pocket. “The past.” He suddenly feels more than a little vulnerable again, but he moves through it, allows himself those feelings. They’re safe here.

“Hey, isn’t that my thing?” Hal throws another rock, skips it further this time, grinning with success. The lake ripples around the stone, the only evidence of human interference for miles around. He turns back to Dave, beaming at first, the sharp lines of his face softening as he takes in the pensieve expression. He reaches out, touches his arm. “You know you can tell me anything.”

He breathes in deeply, the cooling air filling his lungs, watches as Hal sends another rock flying. He picks one out of his partner’s hands, takes his own swing at it, sends it skipping effortlessly out over the flat surface of the lake. Hal scowls, tries to copy his angle, does better the second time around. A quick study. 

Dave picks up another rock, turns it in his hands. Starts talking, voice low in his chest. “The cabin. Reminds me of FOXHOUND.”

“FOXHOUND?” asks Hal. He knows what Dave’s referring to, and it’s not like he’s never brought it up before, but he tends to steer most conversations away from his days spent training with Big Boss, for obvious reasons. If he wants to talk about it, brings it up of his own volition, Hal is more than willing to listen to him. He wants to know everything. “The cabin? Huh. What about it?”

“Hm.” He snuffs out his cigarette, then flings the rock into the water, watches it shoot off into the distance. Hal’s patient with him, luckily, picks up a few more rocks. Knows it’s difficult for him to talk about this but, God, for Hal, he’ll try. “It was part of a training exercise.”

“A cabin?”

“Yeah.” His eyes narrow as he continues. “Standard FOXHOUND special ops training. In the middle of the night, they’d kidnap you, blindfold you, and interrogate you. Nothing too extreme, just enough to put you on edge.”

“What? That’s not ‘extreme’?”

“It’s standard for FOXHOUND. Not even the worst of it.” He shrugs. “If you passed that part, you’d be forced onto a plane, flown out into the ocean and pushed off at thirty thousand feet in a parachute with a few false ripcords. You didn’t have much time to figure out how to deploy it. Heard about a guy or two dying trying to get it to work.”

Hal blinks at him. “Dying during training? How--”

“Everything was life or death. It’s what being a soldier’s about. Can’t predict how someone’ll really react on the battlefield if they’re not actively fighting for their life with every breath. When you joined with FOXHOUND, there was an unspoken understanding that your life belonged to him.”

Him, meaning Big Boss. Hal shuts his mouth and listens, knows this is important.

“Anyway. After that, a one mile swim in the freezing ocean to shore, and another two on foot in the snow. Hypothermia was a real risk. The cabin was like a godsend, but it was locked. And you had nothing on you.”

“Ah.”

Dave smirks, turns the rock in his palm, gone warm with his body heat. It’s grounding, the same way Hal’s even stare is, the furrow of his brows as he takes in each new piece of information. 

“So… how’d you do it?”

“There was an old generator around the back hidden under a foot of snow. Kicked open the panel until I got to the wiring, pulled it out and used it to jimmy open the latch. Not exactly the most refined, but it worked. Once inside, there was a radio you could use to call in for a pickup. It was broken--”

“Of course.”

“--so you had to fix it. While a team of senior officers was sent in to do anything they could to stop you.”

Hal huffs. “Jeez. I mean, no wonder you’re so tough.”

“Well, even if you managed to take down every assailant with your bare hands and fix the radio, there was a countdown. If you didn’t do it within the time limit, they’d pick you up again, put you back in the plane. Start over, drop you back into the ocean.”

His brows knit and his mouth goes hard, Hal clearly mulling over something. “So, then, you failed? Or.” 

A nod. “Of course. But I didn’t give up. Master actually made me stop because it probably would’ve killed me if I kept trying. I was pretty much delusional and nearing hypothermic by the fourth or fifth time. Had something to prove. The next week, when we did that exercise again, I passed the first go-around.”

“Good to know you associate our cabin with near-death experiences.” Hal cracks a grin, tries to bring some lightness to the mood, despite the frustration blooming in his chest. He’s never been a fighter, but for some reason the idea of a much younger, more idealistic Dave willingly going through that kind of hell to impress Big Boss, the man who’d betrayed him so deeply, makes him wish he could punch the guy in the face. “But honestly. That’s pretty incredible.”

He shrugs. “I guess. Like I said, was just thinking about it.” 

“Well, you can rest assured with the knowledge that I won’t kidnap you during the night, at the very least.” Hal blinks. “Unless you’re into that.” His face goes red and he coughs, turns back to the water. “Oh, wow, forget what I just said. Sorry, you make me stupid sometimes.” 

“Just sometimes?” 

“Hey!”

“Kidding.” He watches Hal crouch down, pick up a few more stones to throw. Continues. “It’s not just that, though. This feeling. It’s stupid.” Dave exhales noisily, suddenly feels frustrated that this is so difficult for him to articulate. “Been a long time since I’ve been part of a unit.”

A unit. A partnership. The two of them acting together as a singular force for a shared will. Hal swallows, looks down, and tries not to let himself be overwhelmed, as he often is by Dave.

Hal rises to his feet and looks over, takes in the distant expression on his face. He doesn’t want him to pull back, cherishes these quiet times where Dave lets him in like this. They’re getting more frequent, easier, strengthening the bonds between them. 

“So… that’s what FOXHOUND was to you?” 

“Yeah. It was the first time I felt like I belonged somewhere.”

Dave finally launches the rock off into the lake at full strength, sends it skipping off into the horizon, this full-body tension thrumming through him. He doesn’t talk about this stuff for a reason. It doesn’t agonize like the gaping wound it had once been, drowned out with alcohol and solitude, but acknowledging it isn’t entirely painless, either. 

“Ah.” Hal cautiously steps closer, wanting to offer any moral support, if possible. He reaches out, loops his little finger into Dave’s, swings their hands back and forth. He feels a little stupid, hand holding is probably way too juvenile, too playful for someone like Dave, but he doesn’t let go, at the very least. “So… you feel that way now?”

He frowns. “Sort of. It’s different.”

“In what way?”

“He… Big Boss,” he starts, and already feels the breath sucked out of him. Hal’s fingers twist until their fingers are fully intertwined, offers a reassuring squeeze. He’s not looking at him, just smiling off into the distance, listening. Giving him space. It’s enough for him to force the words out. “In FOXHOUND, I had a purpose. He told me that as long as I had the will to survive, through him, I could accomplish anything. I was his weapon to point. I trusted him to pull the trigger. I believed in him with every part of myself. He was one of us. He understood what it was like to live and die on the battlefield. 

“I didn’t understand it at the time, but... _that_ was really all he had left in him. Some bullshit vision, a world where soldiers would always be needed. Valued. He said we’d never be tools of the government or anyone else, but he had no problem throwing me away when I’d served my purpose. Fucking hypocrite.” His brows knit together as he struggles through the memories, the words seared into his brain forever. The phantoms left behind. “Weapons of destruction. All he cared about was conflict. Endless war.”

Hal looks over, averts his gaze just as quickly. “That’s... really sad.”

“Yeah.” His mouth a flat line, Dave leans closer, wants to feel that closeness as he works through the rest of his words. He’s never talked about Big Boss at length before, finds it difficult to sort through all the feelings about his old CO. His father. Having someone to listen helps. He’s never had someone to listen, before. Not like Hal. 

“I think,” Hal murmurs, his thumb moving in slow circles over the back of Dave’s knuckles, “how it should be, is a world where soldiers aren’t needed in the first place. Where all human life holds equal value, where we’re all respected… united.” He smiles, the orange light of the low sun bouncing off his glasses, obscuring his eyes. “Ah, world peace. Like I’m Miss America or something. Ignore me, I’m probably just being overly idealistic.”

He tugs gently at Hal’s hand, pulls him closer until they’re chest to chest. Hal’s eyes meet his and it’s like he can find all the answers there, like everything just suddenly makes sense. He reaches up, catches one of the strings of Hal’s hoodie in his fingers, pulls gently, twining the cord around his fingertips. 

“I don’t think so,” he murmurs, leaning forward until their foreheads are touching. “Could probably use a little more idealism in my life.” 

What he really means is that the world could use it, but right now his world is just so small, just the two of them, the warmth of Hal’s breath against his lips, the soft noise he makes when Dave leans forward to meet their lips. It’s so warm, he wants to peel out of his skin, wants to be born again like this. This could be his entire existence. 

“So,” he asks, suddenly a little nervous, while Dave’s busy nuzzling his nose into the warm spot at Hal’s neck, finding the places where his scent is most concentrated. Hal’s hand at his back tenses, grabs a fistful of his jacket. “Belonging. Is that… with me?”

He’s afraid to ask even if he’s more than sure of the answer, of what Dave had been trying to say. Hal’s spent his entire life trying to belong to something. And now, could belong to someone, it’s in reach, on the edge of his fingertips.

“Yeah.” Dave raises his head, presses kisses into Hal’s jaw, his cheek. He pauses, tries to find the words, then leans back to meet his gaze. Finds the trust he’s looking for there, something else. God, he could say anything and Hal would hold it close, keep it safe. “With you.”

Hal smiles, feels something prickling at the backs of his eyes, lets it overtake him. “Me too.”

They stand there just looking at one another for what feels like an eternity, until Dave dips forward to kiss him again, retreats just as quickly. Starts taking his jacket off, and Hal watches, puzzled, as he peels out of his shirt, takes his hands again. 

“Come with me.”

He trusts Dave more than he trusts his own feet as they venture down to the water. He’s unsure of what he’s asking until Dave starts undoing his pants, toes off his boots. “Uh, isn’t it a little late in the year for skinny dipping?”

“Probably.”

Hal scoffs and gingerly reaches for the zipper at his chest. He feels the anxiety start up, E.E.’s face, tries to push it down, he’s safe, it’s just Dave, the memories can’t get him if he doesn’t let them. “And after our last thrilling adventure involving large bodies of water, you, ah... want to go right back in?”

“Hey, you’re the one with the big ideas about creating shared experiences.” Dave helps him pull the clothing off his shoulders, reaches for the hem of his shirt with a roguish smile. All the reassurance he could ever need. “Trust me with this. I’ve got you.”

The water isn’t as cool as he thought it would be, still causes his skin to ripple and bump as it comes up over his hips. Dave’s pulling him by their joined fingers, watching him, and he’s warm enough that Hal moves closer to soak up some of his heat. By the time it hits their shoulders, the longer parts of Dave’s hair dipping into the water, Hal isn’t cold anymore, lets Dave pull him close, wraps his legs around his waist. Those strong hands grip his thighs, pulls them closer together.

“Okay, this... this isn’t bad.”

Dave chuckles, lets his hands slide lower until he’s gripping Hal’s ass. “See? You’re a lot braver than you think you are.”

He gives a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t know.” 

“Get out of your head. Just focus on what you feel right now.” Dave pushes off the lake bed with the ball of his foot, pulls them deeper into the water with a heavy grace, until Hal feels it licking at the base of his neck, his hair. “Tell me.”

Hal hums, his fingers teasing at the strands of hair at the back of Dave’s head. “Happy. More than I’ve ever been before.” He looks down between them, can’t quite meet Dave’s eyes. “And… maybe a bit guilty, I guess.”

“Why’s that?” 

“It’s stupid. I don’t know. Just the water and… you know. The memories. Everything I’ve done. It just makes me think that maybe I really don’t deserve to be this happy.” The breath leaves him at the admittance. 

“I agree.”

He balks, starts to pull away, but Dave stops him, holds him tighter. “What?” 

“It _is_ stupid.” Dave regards him with an even look, and Hal can’t tear his gaze away. He wants this so badly it hurts. “Nobody ‘deserves’ to be happy, Hal. Nobody ‘deserves’ anything.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Look,” Dave starts, his brows furrowing with frustration, despite the hope he’s trying to convey in his voice, “You know that it’s more complicated than that. Happiness isn’t inversely proportional to all the bad shit that’s happened in your life. You have to _make_ it happen. Given everything I’ve done, everything I’ve destroyed, are you saying I shouldn’t allow myself a single shred of joy even if you’re the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to me?”

Hal stares at him for a long moment while Dave attempts to rectify just how candid he’s being with his emotions, can’t pull it back now that it’s out in the air like that. He even has it in him to feel a little nervous, this churning feeling in his gut as he throws himself into the line of fire. Somehow it’s more terrifying than facing down a hundred men with loaded guns, something he can do without batting an eye, but Hal watching him with that look on his face makes him push forward.

“I get it. More than anyone, I get it. But if we’re doing this I refuse to just sit here and let you talk that way about someone so important to me. I don’t give a fuck if you ‘deserve’ to be happy or not. All I know is that I _want_ to make you happy.” He exhales noisily, leans into Hal until their foreheads are touching. “And right now you’re making it pretty goddamn difficult for me to do that.”

“I… ah. Wow.”

“Yep.”

“That was pretty stupid,” Hal admits, smiling to himself. “Sorry.”

Dave gives him an incredulous look, before closing the space between them to find his mouth in a kiss. His hands run through Dave’s thick hair, and he’s breathless with the intensity of the meeting of lips and tongue. He lets Dave take and take, lets him explore so thoroughly that maybe he could find the barest trace of his soul somewhere down inside.

“Just wish you could see yourself the way I see you,” murmurs Dave, his words lost to Hal’s mouth, taken and exchanged for more kisses, “Maybe it’d change your mind.”

The best thing that had ever happened to him. Hal closes his eyes, leans into it, finally lets it sink in. This matters. This feeling is something powerful, something life-changing that could be enough to shift his world on its axis. Feeling guilty won’t do a goddamn thing, he can’t unwrite the past. Lost in his own head, he’d completely forgotten to realize just how selfish he’d been holding himself back that way.

“You’re right.” Dave makes a low, curious noise in response, meets his eyes. Hal smiles, the corners of his eyes creasing, emotions swelling within him. “I’m allowed to be happy.”

“Glad we could come to that conclusion together. Gold fuckin' star.”

“Oh, shut up. Dick.”

The sun sinks closer to the tree line, low clouds diffusing the sky overhead with a soft, luminescent glow. Around them, the water grows cooler, but it doesn’t matter, as nothing exists beyond this moment, another ripple in the water, another hopeful promise for the future. A microcosm in the touch of their fingertips.

* * *

He wipes the steam off the mirror with a flat palm, grimacing as he turns his face up to take in his appearance. Hal’s never exactly been the most meticulous with his personal grooming but, man. He recognizes that scraggly stubble and unkempt, long hair isn’t exactly a good look on him, even if his dark circles have receded considerably, and there’s actually a fair amount of color in his skin. Not to mention the fading lovebites lining either sides of his throat, he notices, with a little smile.

Still, he has enough time until his latest scan finishes running, couldn’t hurt to clean himself up a bit. With a bit of searching he finds the scissors from one of their first-aid kits, still a little sticky with gauze residue, but they’ll do the job. He hacks away chunks of his hair over the sink until he’s mostly satisfied that it’s something resembling even, reaches for a razor and soap to deal with his face.

When he pads, barefoot, out of the bathroom he’s aware of Dave’s gaze following his progression back to the counter, where his laptops lie in wait in a bed of maps and coffee stained notebooks, churning through arrays as they mine various backdoor access points for data. He bends over, plants his hands on the counter as he watches the text scroll, sighing with disappointment. It doesn’t look like much.

“You look different.”

“Huh?” He pokes his head up over the screen, finds Dave still regarding him from the couch, ankle crossed over his knee with a book in one hand. “Oh, yeah. Just… it was getting in my face too much.”

“I see.”

“And it just looked bad and yeah,” he babbles, waving a hand as he leans over his primary laptop. He’s never particularly cared about his appearance before, never had anyone to impress, really. “I mean, not that anyone’s going to see me or anything, we live out in the middle of literally nowhere, we're hiding, and I’m rambling now, and I should probably stop talking--”

“It looks good. I like seeing your neck.” The soft scraping sound of a page turning. 

Hal’s hand covers his throat self-consciously, and he smiles, glancing over at Dave, who’s eyeing him with a smirk. “Ah. Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He leans back, lets the book hang from his pinched fingers. “Pretty hot guy hiding under all that nerd.”

Something like pride blossoms within him. He’s gotten more used to actually accepting compliments, flirting back. It’s surprisingly easy. Dave makes it easy, with that warm tone, the familiarity between them. 

“Hey, now, isn’t the nerd part of the appeal?” Hal says, with a shy laugh, as his fingers start a cursory wander over one of the keyboards. Looks like his search came up with something, even if he isn’t sure how relevant the information is. He leans in for a closer look.

“Of course. You’re _my_ nerd.” A wry grin, open, unguarded. “Plus I like messing your glasses up. Making em all smudged and crooked on your face when I’m fucking you.”

“Gah.” He mistypes, has to backspace a bit. “So that’s why you always tell me to leave them on? Some kind of fetish?”

“You think you’re the only one allowed to have kinks?” 

He opens his mouth, glances up over his narrow frames. “Well--”

“It’s hot when you look at me when you’re coming. Getting hard just thinking about it.” His hand slides down between his legs, fingers curling around the bulge of his thickening cock. “Don’t really think you understand just what you do to me.”

Wrist twitching at the admission, Hal accidentally closes a window, hisses through his teeth. “Shit.” He executes a few more commands, the text scrolling seamlessly once more. His eyes find Dave’s for a quick moment, before he smiles down at the computer, crookedly. “You’re really distracting, you know that?”

Dave sets the book to the side, rocks forward onto his feet, then joins Hal at the kitchen counter. He plants a hand on his hip, watches Hal’s hands skip over the keyboard with fascination. Weeks of research, Hal hacking, Dave exercising and finding small projects in the cabin are exponentially more interesting with their relationship to break up the monotony. 

Not to mention the sexual chemistry, Hal proving to be a surprisingly adept partner, always eager, if not a little awkward and overly apologetic. Dirty as all hell, on top of that, at his happiest with a dick in that smart mouth. Still, it’s endearing to watch his confidence grow, their partnership expanding in extraordinary ways, to have someone to open up to for the first time in his life. Something more powerful than even the most fearsome weapon, he’s a little surprised to realize. He'd always thought that relationships were a weak point, a vulnerability. He'd never expected the opposite. 

Dave hooks a finger into his belt loop to nudge him a little closer, until their shoulders bump. “So what am I distracting you from?” he asks, trying to follow Hal’s rapid clicking. 

“Ah, well.” He reaches a hand to push up his glasses. “I think we’ve been looking for the wrong thing. The Patriots, whatever or whoever they are, have made themselves basically untraceable in just about every system I’ve broken into. We’ve basically ruled out the possibility of them being a hidden subsect of the U.S. government, the military, etcetera, it has to be something else, right?”

“Right.” Dave cocks his hip, takes in the arch of Hal’s neck, the shift of his shoulderblades as he works. “So under another government? Another jurisdiction?” 

“I’m not sure about that, either. From what we’ve deigned, any and all information seems to point to them being primarily concerned with the internal affairs of the U.S., not of any other nation. I mean, if we had any reason to believe it was another country, we could look into pointing fingers at China or maybe Russia, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. I’ve looked already, believe me.” 

“Hm. Okay, so… what now, then?”

“We redefine the search parameters.” He starts typing again, Dave following the blinking cursor with his sharp eyes. “What if this isn’t the first time the Patriots have set something up? I mean, if Ocelot’s working for them, they more than likely had a hand in what happened at Shadow Moses.”

“Yeah, I had that thought, too.” He crosses his arms, chin jutting out in thought. “We should reach out to Nastasha, she might have some contacts that’d be willing to talk.” 

“Come on, Dave. I already have.” Hal smirks, hits the Enter key with gusto, tabs to another window. “She’s a little hard to find right now. Hopefully she’ll turn up.”

He clears his throat and continues, “Anyway, if it was so important to them that you were a sort of, uh, hero figure to the public after the Shadow Moses Incident, that they would deliberately lure us out to frame us, it leads me to believe that they’re very concerned with information control. Shaping a narrative for the public.”

Dave considers. “Like the illuminati or something?”

“Maybe? It’s a possibility. Kind of crazy, but we’re used to crazy, right? But I’ve been thinking that they’re bigger than the government. They _control_ the government, maybe.” He shrugs, because it does sound a little insane, although not implausible. “And maybe they controlled _you_ , ah... during Shadow Moses.”

“What?”

“FOXDIE,” says Hal, plainly. He stands up straight, blinks at Dave, who's regarding him with confusion. “Think about it. They had you act as a biological weapon to quietly and covertly kill the people you went in under orders to rescue. The last thing they wanted was a nuke going off, or for anyone to know about the genome soldiers, about REX. It doesn’t fit the narrative, a government hiding secret nuclear weapons, or human experimentation. Or bombing its own soil, for that matter. A massive cover-up. All of that going public was probably the last thing they wanted.”

“So you think Liquid staging an insurrection was directly against the Patriots?” Dave’s eyebrows knit as he thinks, finger tapping contemplatively against his arm. “Hm. The Secretary of Defense told me Liquid and I were America’s dirty little secret when he ordered the strike, when I couldn’t give him the REX data Ocelot took. Maybe the data was the whole point. Acquiring it. Containing it.”

“Yeah, and then the President had the secretary arrested for ordering the strike. Called it off.” A beat, and Hal’s eyes grow wide. “Wait, George Sears resigned after that, didn’t he? And went missing. Do you think that maybe he was one of the Patriots? His resignation was a cover up?” 

“It’s a possibility.”

Hal plants his hands on the counter and sighs, long and low. “This is getting really convoluted. Like somebody’s just making it all up as they go along or something. The illuminati-- really? Yeesh.”

“Just focus on what we know right now. Work our way backwards,” Dave says, with a firm nod, “‘Les Enfants Terribles’. Why Liquid wanted Big Boss’ DNA. Good a place as any to start.”

His fingers grip the countertop, Hal looking back at his laptops, suddenly overwhelmed by just what this research means. Dave’s opening up to him more and more, but the subject of him being a literal clone is one they’ve yet to breach. He doesn’t even know how much Dave knows about it, or if he thinks about it, if it bothers him. It’d driven Liquid to insanity, after all, an obsession with his genetic makeup, created in the image of another man entirely against his will.

Hal pivots to fully face him, finds Dave staring past him, that faraway look in his eyes. Instantly, Hal softens, reaches a hand out to slide around his waist. “Hey. So,” he starts, trying to funnel some confidence into his voice, “If that’s what I’m going to look for… are you going to be okay with that?”

“It has to be done.”

“I know that. But--”

“My feelings on it aren’t important, Hal.”

“Well, they’re important to me.” Hal pulls Dave closer to him, until their thighs bump and touch, torsos meeting. Dave finally turns to glower at him, emotions slipping onto his face gradually, so used to locking them away. “If you don’t want to know, it’s okay. I can do this myself if it’s-- yeah.”

Dave’s eyes soften a little, clear and blue and deeper than anyone had given him credit for, and he tips his chin down in acknowledgement. “Just don’t particularly care to dwell on it.” He pauses. “Most of the time, anyway.”

“It doesn’t change anything.” Hal’s fingers thread together around Dave’s back, their chests pressing together. “You’re still just Dave.” He smiles, hopes that it’s something near encouraging.

“Thank you,” he replies, the words from his lips as rare as snow in the summertime. Hal positively glows at the vulnerability Dave’s showing, leans in to take his mouth, knows that the man responds best to a physical touch. The abandon in his kisses startles him a little, but Hal answers with a soft noise, lets Dave cage him against the counter, his hip jostling one of the laptops as he loses his balance, ever so slightly.

He has to crane his neck back with how far Dave’s leaning into him, Dave’s hands coming up to cup his face and newly bared neck, thumb caressing the edge of his jaw. Hal closes his eyes, eases into it and lets Dave take what he needs from this, lets him pull the strength out of him and use it like Hal has so many times in return.

The intensity burns down into a low heat, softer, small kisses and playful nips. Dave pulls away, until they’re just looking at each other, his thumb moving in slow circles against Hal’s cheek, the hand at Dave’s back slipping under his shirt to touch bare skin. Hal starts smiling like an idiot, and his cheeks kind of hurt with the effort, but he can’t stop looking into Dave’s eyes. Can’t tear himself away.

“Should probably stop distracting you.” Dave nuzzles his nose against Hal’s, gives him another chaste kiss before putting a little distance between them, hands sliding down to rest on his partner’s shoulders.

“Probably,” he replies, with a put-upon sigh. His dick has other ideas, but with the promise of more data just waiting for him to discover, he’s excited to get back into it with a new direction in mind, too many unanswered questions, too many new ideas. 

Dave steps back, gives him the space to turn around and turn his attention to the screens before him. Hal’s already starting to sink back into that hyper-focused state he tends to get into while working, even if he’s not in the best position to lean over a computer for hours, chin to chest, the peaks of his vertebrae starkly visible. He ignores the needs of his body, the world around him. 

It’d relentlessly bothered Dave when they’d first started the entire thing together, Hal’s complete obliviousness or willful neglect of himself, but it had been something that brought them closer together, in the end. He couldn’t watch the idiot just slowly kill himself through inaction, after all. It’s just endearing now, like so many other quirks about him, the two of them moving around each other these days like cogs in an endlessly turning machine, filling in the gaps. 

Watching for awhile, Dave mostly fails to pretend that he’s doing ‘something’ in the kitchen, enjoying the way Hal’s pupils dilate as he eyes the screens, the way he cracks his knuckles as he thinks. The wide legged stance as he shifts from foot to foot, talking to himself, working through his thoughts. Always touching his glasses, Dave’s favorite tic, tiny smudges near the bridge of his nose. 

He can’t resist.

Dave squares up behind him, sets his hands on Hal’s hips, thumbs slipping under his shirt to press against the small of his back. Hal makes a low hum, pushes back into the hold, but doesn’t look away from the screens. “And here I thought you said you weren’t going to distract me?”

“Never said that.” He presses a kiss to the tip of Hal’s shoulder, hands sliding around the front, fingers tracing the sharp juts of his hipbones. “I recall the word ‘probably’ being used.”

“Ah,” replies Hal, the pitch of his voice rising ever so slightly as Dave’s fingers slip underneath his pants and underwear, just low enough to graze the hair trailing there. His hands don’t even falter for a moment, to his credit, still tapping a rapid staccato on the keys. 

“You just keep doing your thing.” Dave’s nimble fingers work to pop the button of his pants, pull the zipper. He presses his hips against Hal’s ass, while his hand slips into the fabric, grasping Hal’s cock through his underwear. “Don’t worry about what I’m doing.”

“Well that’s a little difficult if you’re doing _that_.” 

Dave chuckles, hooking his chin over Hal’s shoulder, steadily rocking his hips against his backside. His hand massages Hal’s cock and balls through the fabric, before he slips it under the waistband, wrapping around the thickening shaft. Only then do Hal’s hands stutter, and he hits the backspace key with a mostly amused sound. 

“Doing what?”

“Feeling me up, obviously,” he replies, with a snarky laugh. Hal reaches for the trackpad, plants his hand abruptly down on the counter as Dave squeezes the head of his cock, his own erection pressing more urgently against his ass. 

“Was actually planning on fucking you. But to start with, sure.”

“Hah,” he breathes, Dave’s free hand starting to ease his pants down his hips. Hal can’t help but push back against him, wants his cock inside of him, with a sudden intensity that’s almost startling. “How are we ever supposed to get any work done?”

“No one said you had to stop working. Not up to the task?” He presses a teasing kiss against the column of Hal’s throat. 

Hal’s eyes narrow with resolve, and with a deep breath, his wrists settle on the surface of his primary laptop. He’s always up for a challenge. Besides, it’s kind of fun. 

He switches focus back to his machines, content to make Dave work for it, notes the snort of amusement in response. The hand slowly stroking his dick doesn’t cease its movement, the other sliding up under his shirt, flat palm skidding up over his belly.

Dave’s hand is rough and calloused, but that somehow makes it hotter as those fingers sweep up his chest, the kisses to his neck aggressive and sharp. Teeth dig in, lips sealing around, sucking and Hal’s eyes come dangerously close to shutting, if only for a moment, before he resumes typing. 

“So what are you working on?” Dave asks, his voice low with arousal. His fingers circle a nipple, and he knows Hal is sensitive there, slow, light touches. Get him so worked up he’ll just beg for it. He’s been able to unearth that side from his partner a few times now, and it’s addicting to see that frustrated, hungry expression on his face, the embarrassment giving way for something purer, sweeter.

“I’m, ah--” He cuts off at a particularly hard nip, the hand in his pants tightening its hold, “--I’m rewriting a virus I wrote a few months ago. Mostly changing the parameters.” 

“Mm.”

“Rewriting it s-so that the code is different enough to clear through any scans that may have checked for older iterations. And… hah.” He swallows thickly as Dave’s hand closes tightly around the head of his dick, steadily grinding his cock against Hal’s ass, holding him steady with a strong hand at his chest. He desperately tries to type out a pathetic bit of code, finds it difficult with Dave’s thumb teasing the slit of his cock, smearing precum over the head. 

Just when he’s starting to surrender to it, Dave slides his fingers back, squeezes the base of his dick and removes his hand from Hal’s pants. Hal pushes back against the cock against his ass, gets a laconic thrust in return, before his briefs are pushed down. They sit awkwardly at the crease of his thighs, still hooked over his balls, and he goes to reach a hand down to adjust himself, doesn’t expect it when Dave’s hand firmly takes his wrist, places it back near the trackpad. 

“So you’re rewriting it?” Once he’s sure that Hal’s hand will remain where he wants it, he reaches down himself and tugs Hal’s pants and underwear down his thighs, helps him step out of it with a guiding hand to his leg. Returning to his full height, crowded up behind him once more, Dave slides his hand forward to Hal’s jaw, directs his wandering eyes back to the screen with a gentle touch. “Focus.” 

“You focus,” mumbles Hal, eyes narrowing as he attempts to catch his train of thought. It doesn’t help that one of Dave’s hands is kneading his ass, he’s standing without his pants on in their kitchen, and they’re talking about hacking into various secret databases for information on a decades old cloning process and Dave is going to fuck him while he attempts to write malware. God. “Okay. Uh, rewriting. Just parts of it. It’s not actually that complicated, j-just a little time consuming navigating the UI. I can use the old iteration to piggyback in the new one, infect an entire network in a matter of hours.”

“Interesting.” 

There’s a palm flat between his shoulders urging him down, and he leans forward onto his forearms, shifting his stance further back to rest against the cradle of Dave’s hips. There’s something about Dave being fully clothed while he’s standing there with his dick hard between his naked, shaking legs, trying and mostly failing to work on something while Dave exploits every sensitive part of his body, reduces him to a wanting mess.

Dave pushes Hal’s shirt up to his ribs, feels his belly retract inward as Dave’s fingers graze the sensitive skin there, then reaches for his dick to give him a few appreciative tugs. He backs off, appraises the tension in Hal’s shoulders, the way his spine arches toward him as he loses physical contact.

He starts to turn, doesn’t want Dave to move too far away. “Hey, come ba--”

“Hands on the counter. Eyes forward.”

“Jeez. Pushy.” He huffs, crossing his forearms, head coming down to rest atop his stacked limbs. He can feel the soft whirring of air from his laptops on either side of his head, the spiral bind of his notebook digging into his wrist. Dave is really going to fuck him right over his research. 

His hands slide down Hal’s waist, slotting into his bony hips to squeeze once, before grabbing at his ass. Gives it a little slap for good measure, before removing his hands entirely. “Be right back. Don’t move.”

Hal whines, can’t hear Dave’s footsteps, so light and effortless, but desperately hopes he’s not just leaving him here to suffer. He raises his head after awhile, reaches a hand forward to make a few little adjustments to his script, a semicolon here or there. He barely notices the silent return of a warm hand at his back, the tap of a foil wrapped condom setting down on the counter next to him.

“Damn lube’s always in the last place I fucking look.” Dave reaches past him, pushes his laptop out of the way, flirting with the edge of the counter, enough space for him to urge Hal down to his elbows. “Didn’t I say not to move?”

“I thought I was supposed to keep working?” Hal asks, though it’s mostly in jest, all he wants is for Dave to keep touching him, “Ah, you’re sending me some mixed messages here.” 

“You could use a break.” Lube squelches out onto his fingers, dripping down his knuckles, but Dave wants it wet and slick so that he can fuck Hal hard enough to break. Setting the bottle down on the counter haphazardly, he reaches down to spread Hal’s ass, runs a wet finger along his perineum. “Plus I’m actually pretty horny.”

“No shit.” Hal laughs breathlessly as the finger presses up against his asshole, teasing in small circles. “Condom?” They use them from time to time for ease of cleanup, but he still prefers to feel skin on skin.

“Figured you shouldn’t have to work with cum leaking out of you. Consider it a courtesy.” 

“You’re too kind.” His voice skips up an octave on the last syllable, Dave’s finger easing the first few inches into him. Dave curves down over his body, his mouth finding the back of Hal’s neck, the tips of his vertebrae. Hal whines, wants to turn his head back and kiss him, but Dave keeps him still with his arms, controlled.

The finger inside of him pushes deeper, searching, and Hal moans, rocks his hips back to take it in. He’s starting to sweat under his arms, wants his shirt off, and Dave is still entirely clothed and god, he just wants to get fucked. “Can you hurry up, already?”

“No,” Dave replies, angling his wrist to work a second finger into him, smiling at the gasp that leaves his partner’s lips. He pushes his face into the hollow of Hal’s neck, bites down, humming low in his throat at the effortless way he opens up for him. 

He stands up, looks down at Hal beneath him, trying to rock back onto his hand. He’s so tight and hot around his fingers, and he scissors them open trying to get him to loosen up, his other hand reaching for his belt. It’s easy enough to get his pants open one-handed, and he pulls himself out, dick hard and thick in his palm, already dripping at the tip. 

“Are you seriously going to fuck me with all of your clothes on? Dave!” His voice is thin and reedy, and Hal strains to get up to his hands, but Dave won’t let him, stops him with a gentle shove between his shoulders. 

“Yep.” 

Hal huffs, but doesn’t stop fucking back onto his hand, precum steadily dripping from his cock where it’s straining against the side of the counter. He wants to reach down for it, wants desperately to touch himself, but likes being limited a little, puts the control squarely in Dave’s capable hands. Well, with a little commentary at least.

He’s gasping for it when the fingers slide out of his ass, the condom swiped off the counter. Dave tears the package with his teeth, pulls out the condom and rolls it on with little preamble. He grabs the lube with his free hand, uses a significant amount to wet his dick, gritting his teeth in arousal.

“Please,” mutters Hal, hands tensing against the paper beneath him, feeling so empty and needing and powerless, “Dave, just put your cock in me already, _please_.”

“Pushy,” Dave mimics, flatly, even if he’s just as desperate to fuck his way inside. Hand around the base of his cock, he presses the blunt head against Hal’s ass, just enough pressure for him to feel it. “So did you still want to work, or--”

“ _Dave_ just fucking-- oh god--”

He sucks in a desperate gasp of air as the head pushes in, he tries to relax, and it doesn’t really hurt just feels like this pressure inside of him. Intense. His forehead lands on the counter with a thump, fingers tensing on the paper underneath, and he’s too hot and it’s too much and all he wants is to fuck back or pull away or touch his dick or anything. Just has to bear it as Dave eases out again, then in, and Hal chokes out a moan, aching to move.

“Easy.” He breathes harshly through his nostrils, resisting the urge to just fuck his way inside and wreck him, Hal tight and hot and eager. His hands settle on Hal’s back, curving around to his hips to drag him back, fucking him slowly, just wanting to fill him up. Dave’s shirt gets in the way of his vision, hanging away from his body, and he pulls it up his abdomen until it’s balled up in his fist at his chest. A clear line of vision where he’s inside of Hal, hole red and stretched around the girth of his dick, the shine of the condom, lube in sticky handprints on his ass. “Fuck you’re hot.”

He’s overly aware of how Dave’s belt is cutting into the back of his thigh, his pants and underwear snug up under his balls, and Hal tries to push himself upright to gain some more leverage, reach for his cock to take the edge off. Dave snaps up his right hand, too quick, then his left, pulls them tight behind his back in a one-handed hold, eases Hal down to rest on his face with his free hand on the back of his neck. 

The laptops on either side frame his narrow shoulders, the harsh light from the screen catching on his hair, his throat, and not for the first time Dave’s struck by just how unexpectedly beautiful his partner is, all pale skin and bruises in the shape of his mouth and fingers. Just laying there, completely vulnerable, making broken little noises in his desperation. God, he just wants to fuck him up.

“This isn’t fair,” whines Hal, the desperation plain in his words, the shake in his legs. “I need more, I-- ah!” 

Dave’s fucking into him steadily now, squeezes Hal’s wrists once as a wordless command to stay, reaching to finally pull his own shirt up and off, sticking to him where the sweat is beading on his skin. Dave lays himself flat over his back, Hal’s arms trapped between their bodies, his shirt rucked up under his arms, suffocating. Dave’s hand pulls at Hal’s hair, turning his head to the side to attack the vulnerable flesh of his throat, under his ear.

“I know you want to touch yourself. Not gonna let you,” Dave growls, pinning Hal hard to the counter. “Can you come on just my dick?”

“Fuck--”

Hal struggles under him, gets one arm loose, flat on the counter to push himself back onto Dave’s cock, clenching down hard as Dave fucks into him. It’s making him so hard, Dave just panting in his ear, and there’s a steady stream of fluid dripping down his leg, so keyed up and hot where he’s pressed to the counter and oh, shit, his laptop--

Dave’s hand whips out to rescue it before it plummets to the floor, doesn’t stop moving, pushes it far away on the counter on an angle, before overwhelming Hal with his body. He tugs his head back to steal a sloppy kiss, fucks his tongue in, Hal panting listlessly into his mouth, eyes clenched shut. 

He’s balls-deep, just rolling his hips in, up on his toes as Hal pants hard against the diagrams, the notes, out of his mind, vision sparking. Dave slots a hand around to grip the front of his throat, eases his head gently back, limiting his air supply the slightest amount, Hal’s breaths coming sharp and short in his ear. Feels the wet shift of movement as he swallows.

“I know you’re so close, the way you’re pulsating around my dick, _fuck_ \--” Dave’s sweating with the effort of holding himself back, but he wants to make Hal come, wants him to shatter in his hands like water in glass, spill out over the sharp edges. He doesn’t even have to touch his cock, Hal keening high in his throat, eyes open and white and _yes_ , his ass tightening like a vice around his cock as Hal reaches his peak. The broken gasp that leaves his mouth as it races through him, Dave keeping that hand around his windpipe until the shivering stops. 

Hal collapses against the counter, only when Dave allows him, hands clinging to the edge to hold on because Dave is not stopping. He barely has time to recover, and everything is so raw, so sensitive, the drag of Dave’s dick inside of him igniting every nerve. He’s hyperaware of the wetness down his leg, the sound of Dave’s dry chuckle as he pushes him flat to the counter, starts fucking him again in earnest.

“Dave,” he moans, and Dave kisses his neck, his face, any patch of bare skin he can reach. 

His rhythm starts to falter, his breathing heavy in Hal’s ear, until he’s just shaking over him, barely contained. Then, release, fucking his load into him with a low groan, face curled into Hal’s neck. 

They stay like that for a long, sticky moment. Finally, Dave grunts, raising his head, notes the purpling marks along Hal’s neck. He wonders for a moment if his partner actually passed out, before he hears the reassuring wheeze of laughter below him. Of course.

“You’re really heavy, you know,” Hal says, a smile on his voice, coming up onto his forearms in an effort to shove him off. Dave grins, presses a messy, wet kiss to Hal’s cheek, finally backing up off him. “Hah.” 

He reaches down to pinch the base of the condom, drawing out of him slowly, pulling it off his softening cock to dispose of. Dave walks to the sink with his dick out of his pants, turns back to Hal who’s somewhat awkwardly trying to put himself together, legs and arms not quite cooperating yet.

Hal at the very least gets his pants up and buttoned, even if his shirt is still sweaty and stuck under his arms. Dave isn’t faring a whole lot better just staring at him with a crooked grin as he reaches out to pull the fabric down over Hal’s stomach.

“There’s cum all over the side of the counter.”

“Oh, I wonder who’s fault that is.” 

He rolls his eyes, bends down to reach for Dave’s shirt, which had been lost to the mercy of the wood flooring. Dave’s busy tucking himself back in, doing up his pants, belt open as Hal dangles the shirt towards him. Instead of grabbing the shirt Dave takes his wrist, pulls them tight together, opposite hand carding through his hair to pull him in for a kiss. 

“I need to work, you know,” Hal says against his lips, but he doesn’t seem all that convinced himself, doesn’t stop returning his kisses, can’t stop smiling. “So distracting.”

“Don’t pin the blame on me for your lack of concentration.”

“Hey!”

He shoves Dave’s shirt at his chest between them, only steps back enough to let him pull it up his arms, Hal helping him tug it over his head, down his chest, smoothing the lines of fabric over his pecs, his abs. 

Dave ducks forward to kiss him again, and Hal starts laughing as he retreats. “Come on. Seriously!”

“When you’re right here it’s hard not to wanna put my dick in you again.” Hal scoffs. There are more kisses. Matching stupid grins. “It’s not my fault you’re so… cute.”

“You need to stop.” It doesn’t mean he can’t pull Dave closer, suck his lower lip into his mouth, reach down to squeeze a handful of his ass. “Go for a run, go check the sensors, do some pushups or something, jeez. Get some of that energy out.”

“I’m thinking of another type of exercise. Let’s switch. You fuck me for awhile.” 

Hal sets both hands on Dave’s shoulders, swivels him on his feet and ushers him away from the kitchen. “You are unbelievable. Get away from me! I have work to do!”

To his credit, Dave only returns to kiss him once, grab his ass a few more times as he disappears and reappears in various states of dress on his way out the door.

He’s finally able to turn back to his computers, feeling inspired, motivated. Fucked out. He’ll probably have to switch to the table soon for the sake of his neck, and there’s a wet spot of saliva on some of the paperwork, but nothing unsalvageable. He makes a face as he notices, wow, he actually came a lot, stripes of drying cum down the side panel of the counter. He reaches for a kitchen rag with a grimace. His malware, upon closer inspection, has an entire line of gibberish from his laptop’s thwarted suicide attempt, a smudgey lube thumbprint on the keyboard. Gross. He mentally apologizes to the rag for its unintended repurposing. 

As he sets his fingers back on the keyboard, Hal notices the red marks on his wrists, the beginnings of bruises. A constant presence. He hits the Enter key, watches the text scroll, a clear goal in mind. He’s never looked for information so delicate. Not for the first time, he feels this urge to protect.

Hal works. At least until Dave comes back to distract him again.

* * *

Hell. 

He’s not sure how he feels like he’s both immolating and shivering to death, ice cold, electric, this sick, twisting feeling of dread slithering up his guts, his throat, until he’s gagging and shuddering and this is what hell has to feel like. Like there’s so much pressure on his chest, this digging feeling, some animal with sharp claws trying to rip through his skin, his bones, chew right through his organs and tear them bloody and burnt from his body. 

Blond hair and clear eyes. Nothing inside.

And then Hal’s eyes open and he realizes he’s just laying flat on his back, nothing heavier than blankets on his chest, nothing wrong, save for the sweat dripping down his forehead. He rubs his eyes in the darkness, still feeling weird and unsettled, too cold. He looks to the side, finds Dave turned away from him, shoulders shaking, thrashing, mumbling something in his sleep. 

He turns onto his flank without preamble, reaches a hand forward until it’s centered on Dave’s back, other sliding up his arm, feels his partner’s muscles coil and tense as he starts at the touch. The dread feeling in the recesses of his brain starts to taper off, mold and change, Hal trying to funnel every bit of reassurance into the palm of his hands, like Dave could soak it in through his skin.

Hal doesn’t need to say anything, barely needs to think it in the sleepy fog of his brain, sets his head heavily onto the pillow as Dave’s breathing changes. He blinks, eyes sticky and groggy, Dave rolling onto his back astride him. Can’t make out more than the shape of his face, just feels the tension rolling off him, the remnants of a dream, a memory. 

Dave sits up, leans forward, knees pulling closer to his chest, elbows settling on top. Moonlight carves out the sharp lines of his back, scars, the visible remnants of wounds long healed. He covers his face with his hand, exhales long and low, and Hal shifts himself upright, folds himself over him, cheek pressed to his shoulder. He yawns, can’t help it, turns his face into Dave’s skin and mouths along the dip of his muscle.

They stay like that for a while, Dave’s thumb pushing in hard circles into his temple, Hal’s arms loosely hanging around his waist, face at his back. He yawns again, nuzzles his forehead into Dave’s skin, presses a kiss there. Starts to slowly ease him back down to the bed.

He finally settles down onto his side, head pillowed on Hal’s chest, pulled snug against his partner’s body. Hal’s arm around his back, holding him, Dave’s thigh pinning him, protecting him.

There’s so much tension in Dave’s body, so hard and strong and shaking. Hal mindlessly smooths it down and out with his hand, sweeping in long strokes over the length of his side. His hair smells like sunsets and smoke, tickles the skin of Hal’s cheek. He doesn’t mind it.

His eyes shut, his palm continuing its gentle path. David softens at the touch, relaxes, mouth open and wet against the fragile jut of his collarbone. 

When sleep catches him, it’s not dark, no sucking void to pull him under. Soft light, hazy eyes. The reflective light on glass, dewy and refreshing like morning.

* * *

“Man.”

“Hm.”

“Yeah that’s,” says Hal, lowering the converted M9 with a wince, “pretty much a prime example of why I shouldn’t carry one of these things.”

Dave rolls his eyes, stalks off to pick out the tranq darts where they’re peppered in a small vicinity amongst the trees, off from the human-shaped paper target they’ve raised for him to practice on. He’s a really lousy shot, even with the damn laser sight. It’d probably help if he kept his eyes open.

“Well, if you just listened to me and practiced with a standard 9mm we wouldn’t be having this problem. The conversion throws the aim off a little in this one. Tricky if you aren’t used to it.”

Hal flips the safety on, lets the gun dangle in his hands, finger off the trigger. Even knowing it’s not lethal doesn’t make it any more comfortable for him to hold. He doesn’t like guns, but Dave’s spent the better part of the week trying to bully him into more practicing, and he’d eventually agreed. 

“You know how I feel about that, Dave. Come on,” he says, with a loose shrug of his shoulders. The only time he’d willingly accepted a lethal handgun had been the time they spent apart, and only because Dave had literally forced him to. He’d spent the entire time mostly avoiding its existence. 

“Yeah, I know. Doesn’t make that gun any less useless in an actual fight.”

Dave comes up beside him, and his face softens a little at the look Hal gives him. He nods decisively, offers him a fresh mag, which Hal takes with mostly steady fingers. “One more round. That’s all you’re getting out of me,” Hal murmurs, ejecting the empty mag with his thumb. 

He’s not entirely useless at this. He at least knows how to load a magazine, chamber the round by releasing the slide, knows how the safety works. Knows to point it down when he’s not aiming at something. Dave’s drummed it into his skull enough, and even though they’re just empty tranq rounds, gun safety is no joke to him.

“Okay,” says Dave, coming up behind him. “Get back into position.”

Hal takes a breath, drops his shoulders, leans into it. Tries to relax. He raises his arms square from his shoulders with the gun pointed forward, levers his knees, Dave prodding at his arms, his hips to make adjustments, the touch physical and confident. He’s a good teacher, really. Professional.

Well, at least until he comes up behind Hal, hips deliberately snug against his ass, covers his arm with his own, adjusting his aim. “You did the modifications, you already know the tranq rounds fire in a slight arc. It means you have to account for that with the angle of your wrists.” He shifts his arms, forcing Hal to hug in, focusing his energy into the midline. “There you go. Like that.” 

Satisfied, Dave steps back, hands lingering a little too long on Hal’s shoulders. All he wants is to make sure that Hal can at least protect himself, even if his partner is just as bull headed as he is when it comes to this subject. Although not lethal rounds, it at least looks threatening. Could save his skin in a pinch. 

“Okay. Take a breath.” Hal does, sharp, through his nose. It’s something. “Whenever you’re ready. Try to actually hit the target this time.” 

“Oh shut up.”

Hal flicks the safety off, at the very least, moves a shaky finger to the trigger. “Both eyes open.” He stops winking, huffs as he narrows his gaze down at the sights. He draws in a steady breath as his finger presses down, and he’s always shocked by the recoil at first, missed the mark by a mile. “Lean into it, Hal. Let your body absorb the energy from the recoil.”

Each shot he takes gets closer to the target, concentrating, until the last round hits somewhere nearing center. He exhales noisily, adrenaline spiking. 

Dave slaps a rough hand over his shoulder, jostling Hal’s grip as he lowers the gun. “You hit center mass at least.”

He smiles, even if shooting always makes his pulse thunder in his ears. It’ll take him a little bit to completely calm down. “I completely suck, don’t I?”

Dave gestures to the target, grins. “Well you got him in the junk. That’d take a guy down pretty fast.”

Hal sighs. He hates not being good at something, even if it’s not within the realm of his expertise. He’s not particularly physical, but a gun’s a machine of a sort, it’s just physics. The metal feels hot in the palm of his hand. 

He tests the weight of the gun, looks to his partner. “I think I want to try again.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They practice until Dave’s out of clips and Hal’s mostly frustrated. Dave grows steadily more specific with his criticism as Hal’s aim improves, doesn’t ease up, and he feels a bit like he’s failing him somehow, even if Dave doesn’t seem particularly disappointed. Just thorough, as always. He gives up on himself near the end, deliberately firing into the dirt. There’s a point he _wishes_ it were a real gun. The tranq rounds don’t create any mayhem, just poke into the ground, innocuous as a flu shot. He’d designed them to be covert, after all. 

“Yeah?” chides Dave, arms firmly crossed around his broad chest. 

Hal lowers the gun down, flicks the safety with a degree of finality. “I’m just not cut out for this. My aim is shit.” 

“It takes practice, Hal.”

“Probably not for you though, right?”

“Hm. Can’t say you’re wrong there.”

He blinks, looks over at Dave, who lowers his arms from his chest and regards him openly. There’s a story there, he realizes, Dave just waiting for him to ask. 

He triple checks the safety, ejects the mag and checks the chamber. Then, turns the gun in his palm, handle first, to hand over to Dave. He nods, satisfied with Hal’s level of care, accepts the firearm with a much surer hand before sliding it into the holster at his belt.

“For some reason I always just pictured you just born knowing how to shoot. I’m not particularly surprised you were a natural.”

Because it had been engineered into him, Hal realizes, as soon as the words are out in the open. It must show on his face, because Dave’s expression shifts into this morbid grin, and he’s suddenly aware that this is one of those important stories that he’s about to hear. He tunes himself in entirely, an eager little sponge ready to soak up any bit of offered information.

“It was the first thing I ever really wanted, to be honest. Just felt right to hold a weapon in my hands. Like finally I had some kind of power.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.” Dave shrugs, digs in his jacket pocket for a smoke. “Shooting range was my second home as soon as I looked old enough. Good fake ID and nobody suspected a damn thing.” He smiles wryly as he lights up. “It wasn’t like there was anyone asking where the hell I was going all the time.”

“So who did you live with? Where?” Hal asks, and it’s surprisingly easy to just ask, they’ve gotten this far already. He trails after Dave as he moves to take the target down where it’s been nailed up to a tree, shoves his hands in his pockets. The autumn air is getting cooler with every passing day.

Dave shrugs. “People. Small towns. I got bounced around a lot in foster care. Wasn’t the easiest kid to deal with.” The cigarette hangs limp between his lips as he rolls up the thick sheet of paper, mottled with little holes where the tranqs had poked through. 

“So you didn’t have like… one family that stood out? Nobody?” Hal’s eyes crease a little. It had to have been so lonely.

He shakes his head. “Not really. Just kept to myself most of the time. Never really had any friends or anything like that. I didn’t know how to get close to anyone.”

“Me neither.” Hal smiles, looks down. They really are similar beyond the surface. “So what did you do, then?”

“What did I do? Hm. Aside from shooting, most of the time I was alone, or hanging around liquor stores trying to get someone to buy me booze or smokes. Reading. Sometimes I got into fights. I was angry a lot. Probably would’ve ended up in prison if I didn’t end up enlisting.” 

“Prison?” he echoes, surprised.

Dave nods, after a moment, as they turn to start the trek back to the cabin. He pinches the cigarette with his fingers, blows the smoke away from Hal. The ground is wet beneath their shoes, thick with leaves, squelching with each step. Hal once again wishes he had something other than sneakers, a wayward thought that quickly disappears as Dave continues.

“Yeah. Fighting... at that point, it was the only thing other than drinking that let me actually feel anything. Instigated a lot of shit chasing that high. I liked making people bleed.” 

He looks at Hal, like he’s expecting judgment, expecting something. When nothing appears save for an open look of curiosity, he continues.

“I was just going nowhere fast on that path. Restless. Figured the military would at least get me out of the states, give me some kind of structure. Make me a little less dangerous. Or at least give me somewhere to channel all of it.”

“So did it?”

“In a way, yeah. The Green Berets were a start, but I didn’t take well to authority, didn’t do well in a squad. But the trail of bodies I left behind during Desert Storm, well, it got me noticed by FOXHOUND.” He snorts, tossing his cigarette to the earth beneath them, stepping it into the mud as they walk forward. “Hindsight, though. Don’t know if it was my skill that got me inducted or if Big Boss just wanted me somewhere he could control me.”

“I don’t think you give yourself enough credit.”

Hal looks down at the ground as they hit an incline, has to focus a little more on where he’s walking. Dave keeps pace with him, face somber, the first bit of rain starting to spot on the sleeves of his jacket. Thunder rumbles threateningly overhead, dampened by the thick treeline. 

“Maybe. I am good at killing people.” 

“That wasn’t what I meant,” Hal smiles, lifts his gaze to meet Dave’s, “I’ve seen you fight. You’re fearless. I don’t think anyone else could do what you do. It’s like you just… I don’t know. Lose yourself into it. It was why I asked you join Philanthropy in the first place.”

Hal’s foot slides as he steps, but he corrects himself, vaguely understanding his sense of balance now with all of Dave’s physical training. His shoe is basically a lost cause, though, but none of it seems to matter. Not with Dave sharing so much of himself, walking by his side.

“You’re dedicated. It’s like… I don’t know. You’re impossible. Nothing will stop you from seeing out your task. If I told you to bring me the moon you’d probably figure out a way to do it.” A pause. “I mean, not that I’m suggesting anything. That might kind of fuck up the gravitational pull of the earth, among other potential issues. Please don’t try to steal the moon.”

Dave actually laughs at him, eyes bright and clear. “Hal, what the fuck.”

“Okay, good, I made you laugh. That’s something.” He grins as they get closer to the bottom of the hill, takes Dave’s offer to help him down to the even ground. His hand is warm and rough, reassuring. He doesn’t let go even as the terrain levels out beneath them, likes the contact, even if Dave keeps switching the threading of their fingers. “My terrible sense of humor has its uses after all.”

“It is pretty terrible.”

“Hey! Don’t be a dick.” He leans in, bumps Dave with his shoulder, laughs when he pushes back. “But that’s what I’m trying to say. You’re the person that you are because it’s who you choose to be. You could’ve just kept fighting just to fight, and you didn’t. You fight for something bigger than yourself, Dave, and you don’t quit. Not anybody can just do that.”

“You do,” Dave murmurs. 

“Me? Oh, I just sit behind a screen, really. I guess you could call me, like, a keyboard warrior, but that’s pretty nerdy, even for me.”

Dave stops, then, boots sinking into the sodden ground. Hal feels the cold bleeding into the canvas of his shoes, rain starting to trickle down from the sky. It’s starting to bite, his nose going red, and he desperately wants to be buried under a blanket. But he knows that Dave is at ease in nature, at his lightest with the elements. He can bear it.

“I’m serious,” Dave says, reaches forward to tug Hal closer by the neck of his hoodie. “You fight just as hard as I do, for what you believe in. Maybe not in the same way. But you fight.”

Hal stares back at him, eyebrows pulling low. He breathes out shakily, still a little unsure. Nevertheless, he replies, “Okay. Yeah. Sure.” He feels something swell in his chest that feels fleetingly close to pride. Something else.

“People like you don’t come around every day, Hal. I mean it.” Dave softens, then, feels a pang of regret in his chest. “The only other person I knew with your level of faith died fighting for it.”

Then, lower, “Well, I killed him for it.”

It’s then that a fat raindrop hits Hal square in the glasses, makes him wince, before the sky really starts to cry. Thick wet drops bleed from the clouds, land on the wet earth. They make no move to leave this moment, sky darkening, thunder rolling overhead.

Hal starts to open his mouth, sucks his lip between his teeth as he catches himself. He doesn’t want to assume. “I’m sorry,” is all he can say, and he feels it down to his soul. It’s all he wishes for Dave. People that care about him. A life beyond death and destruction. A taste of happiness, no matter how brief.

“Fox,” says Dave, slowly, like he’s sounding out every shape of the word, the entire person it implies. Hal can’t help but tense, he doesn’t have the greatest memories of the subject in question. “He was… fuck.” He can’t spit it out, casts his gaze aside, giving Hal the opportunity to reach for his hands, drag him closer.

“He was really important to you.” Hal tries to fill in the gaps, find the words where Dave can’t. “Would you tell me about him?”

His hair is sticking in great chunks to his forehead, glasses utterly useless and dripping. Dave is faring no better, jacket slick and waxy, fringe saturated to his forehead. Still, Hal can’t take his eyes away, though the image is blurred through his frames. He can make out the pulse of his jaw, teeth grit, the way he’s holding himself in like letting this out physically hurts. 

“As much as I’m enjoying this cliche,” says Hal, as gently as he can, trying to break through that utter haze, “standing in the rain, sharing this, uh, meaningful moment. I’m kinda wet? And cold. We should go inside and talk.” 

Dave at least has it in him to roll his eyes, however fond. “Yeah.”

Hal doesn’t try to speak when they return to the cabin, doesn’t say anything as Dave clears the rooms, as per usual, stores the weapons, as per usual. Mutual changes of clothes, lacking banter. Not usual. Dave settles onto the sofa with his legs pulled up, face drawn into a pensive look. Hal follows, sits down, not sure whether he should stay close or stay away. So he just stays put.

“What the hell are you doing? Come here.” Dave reaches for his arm. Hal shuffles closer, slides into Dave’s arms, lets him hide his face in his hair. His breath tickles at Hal’s neck, along his ear, and he sighs into it, relaxes. 

He’d heard the specifics of Gray Fox, what had happened to him, while studying the codec data from Shadow Moses. Still, hearing it from Dave is different. He’d known the man before becoming a terrifying cyborg, a shell of his former self. Before he’d made Hal literally piss himself in fear. He inwardly cringes. He doesn’t have the fondest memories of Fox, has had many an embarrassed, intrusive thought about that moment, tries to tamper that feeling down for his partner’s sake.

Regret momentarily abated, Hal asks, “So… Fox. What was he like? When you knew him.”

“Brutal. Mostly. All he knew was war. It was why he joined Big Boss, why we eventually fought on the opposite side.”

“But you worked together? In FOXHOUND.”

“More than that.” His voice takes on this hushed tone, and Hal turns to look at him, twists in his hold to find his face. “He was my superior. He kept an eye on me. Some of the squad didn’t like the fact that a rookie had been given the codename ‘Snake’ so early on. So, mostly, he made sure I didn’t get my ass kicked too bad. At least until he decided to kick it himself.”

“Ah.”

“If Big Boss taught me about having the will to survive, then I’d say Fox helped me not to fear death.” He scoffs, tightens his arms around the other man. “Fucking Frank. So goddamn fatalistic all the time.”

His face tightens. “Frank?”

“Yeah.”

“So you guys were on a first name basis?”

“Sometimes. He knew my name. But things were-- complicated. At first it was just training. Fuck. I don’t know, Hal. We were sparring one day and I finally had him pinned. I just kept hitting him. I could’ve killed him. It was only when he spoke I came back into myself, realized what I was doing. He spat up blood, and said; ‘More’. He wanted me to hurt him. It was a release. We both wanted it.”

Hal has this question on his tongue, and despite any reservations, he decides to ask. “Were you guys… together?”

“Not really.” Dave breathes out, deep and heavy, searching for the words. “That was technically fraternization, we didn’t exactly hang out. Not at first. Not until-- it was in training with him I learned how to truly lose all sense of self. To just be completely in my body, to remove the feelings of pain, loss, to go on instinct. To just fight. And he was better than anyone. Better than me.”

Dave pauses, pulls Hal onto his lap, and he moves easily, squirms a bit to get comfortable. He just wants him close. He’s never talked about this before, tries not to think about it. The pain never really goes away, recedes into a quiet ebb like everything other memory he’s mostly managed to compartmentalize for the sake of his own sanity. It’s getting easier to access these parts of himself without it borderline destroying him, and he might have Hal to thank for that.

“Things... changed after Outer Heaven. I was pretty fucked up. It-- yeah. I didn’t care whether I lived or died. Just kinda… floated. Frank understood. He kept me busy, made me train with him, let me hurt him just to feel something. He kept me from drinking by myself. He was there for me. Everyone else on base was trying to fix me and Frank just let-- we were just broken together. So one day I went for it and yeah. Mostly we just fucked and drank and fought but, I don’t know. It was a connection. I had never felt anything like that before.”

“I’m sorry,” Hal says, again. He doesn’t know what to say, emotions warring within him, and Dave is facing him, hollowed out, defenses lowered. So he just holds him, pulls him close, fingers gripping a handful of his t-shirt, and he tries to understand. He’s lost people too, but somehow this grief seems so much worse in Dave. 

“It’s not your fault. Besides, it couldn’t last. I left FOXHOUND for the CIA. He joined up with Big Boss. There was no place left for him but the battlefield. Still, he helped me even on the other side, and again at Shadow Moses. What he said to me, just before Liquid--” He pulls back, catches his partner’s eyes, “Fuck, Hal. I couldn’t let him die protecting me and have it mean nothing. I had to find something to believe in. Someone.”

Then, softer, “It might sound like bullshit. But sometimes I think he led me to you.”

A laugh bubbles out of him before he can stop it, nervous and unanticipated. “I… what? Dave.” He raises a hand off his shoulder, pushes his glasses further up his nose. 

His expression dissolves quickly, mouth flattening. “Was that not--” 

“No!” Hal can feel the blush crawling up his face, because really, his heart is pounding in his chest and he feels weird and a little sweaty, that same feeling when they fuck or kiss or they’re touching or working or Dave just looks at him a certain way. He steals a kiss, overestimates, mostly finds beard before Dave turns just enough to open his mouth, their tongues sliding together for a brief moment before they part. “No, just--”

“It was stupid.” 

“No, not at all, but I-- it’s like you’re saying it’s fate or something. Destiny. That’s massive. Like everything in history just aligned so we’d be together, right here, right now. It just... doesn’t seem like something you’d say.” He blinks. “Jeez, it sounds like something _I’d_ say.”

So maybe Hal’s idealism has thrown his entire worldview through a loop. Maybe he’s finally realised the difference between surviving and really, truly living. Maybe for the first time in his life, Dave’s looking forward to the sun, instead of down at the ground. And maybe he has no idea how to voice any of that aloud without sounding like a total asshole.

He chuckles. “I’m not saying fate. We both made decisions that led us here. Frank was my best friend once. I just hope my choices could make his sacrifice worth it.” 

“Y’know, I wish we could’ve met under other circumstances. Before, the way you knew him. Maybe I’d thank him.” 

“For what?”

“Protecting you,” Hal leans closer, breathing him in. “Keeping you alive until I could find you. Not killing _me_ when you found me first.”

Their lips meet, and he can feel Hal’s quickening pulse in the hand at his throat, his heart. Can feel it wash over his head, saturating his entire body. Dave wonders not for the first time, maybe, possibly, if it’s what he thinks it could be. It’s not even the second time. Not even the third.

* * *

Soft tapping, the click of glasses shifting. He holds his breath when reading something interesting, mutters to himself sometimes. Dave doesn’t even need to look, listens to the sounds he recognizes as his partner working. It’s too damn late. 

Early, even. Too dark for dawn. Hal’s witching hour, his most productive time, cups of coffee in various states of emptiness in a line next to the bed, unseen beyond the rucked up blankets in a pile over his legs. 

Dave reaches for his smokes, teases them off the end table with his middle finger. “Are you tired yet?”

“No.” Hal’s answer is too quick, too caffeinated. He doesn’t stop typing, right hand bouncing from the arrow buttons, up, down, left hand in contorted positions over the letters. He doesn’t stop as he speaks, “I can go into the other room if the light’s bothering you. I’m gonna be at this for awhile.”

A new lead gives him little incentive to sleep. It’s the most promising information he’s found in months, could finally put them back on the path to finding out the identity of the elusive Patriots. An informant. God, it’s just so much bigger than them.

Dave hums, stretches his legs out under the sheets. He slides a cigarette between his lips, but doesn’t light it, Hal’s screen the only source of illumination in the room. He plays with the lighter in his hand, thinks, staring into nothing in the darkness. 

He speaks again after what seems like ages.

“Have you ever wished that a moment could last forever?”

Hal doesn’t look away from the screen. “Are you asking me?”

“Yeah.”

He considers for a moment, then speaks. “No, I don’t think I ever have.”

“Hm.” 

“I mean, I think that’s why it’s a moment. It’s there, and then it’s gone. You can remember it, small insignificant things, but you’ll never be at that point, at that time, ever again.” He shrugs, tips his chin down as he types, light reflecting on the glass, eyes obscured. “I wouldn’t want it to last forever, anyway. Think of all the possibilities. Tomorrow something could completely alter your entire perception of the world. Just imagine what you could learn, what you could wake up to.”

His laptop pings cheerfully, and he smiles down upon it. “At least that's the way I look at it. Isn’t the future exciting?”

Dave turns the cigarette in his lips. Lifts it out of his mouth, hand falling overhead.

“Why do you ask?” 

“No reason,” Dave murmurs. 

He slips his fingers over Hal’s thigh. It’s quiet again.

* * *

Shrill, screeching, Hal distantly recognizes the codec alarms in his head as he’s forcefully woken, someone shaking him awake. It’s Dave, no, _Snake_ , and he’s not looking at him, already crouched alongside the bed, gun in hand. 

The proximity triggers are still going off, rattling in his skull, fade into the background. Someone has found them. Someones, by what he can make out from the infrared feed from the external cameras streaming directly from his nanos to his optic nerve.

“Five… no, six.” Snake motions him over and he’s fucking glad it was cold enough that he wore sleep pants to bed and it’s ridiculous that this thought is even happening as he sidles up behind him, away from the window. 

Snake is counting. One hundred seconds until they’ve completely surrounded the cabin. He feels his muscles lock as the adrenaline starts to shoot through him, racketing up to a place where he doesn’t need to think, doesn’t operate on anything other than pure, absolute instinct. 

He nudges the bedroom door open with a toe, Hal sticking tight along his back without instruction, just knowing to stay close, as they clear out into the living room. Hal finds cover, low to the ground, shaking, doesn’t need to be told. They’ve trained for this, they’ve expected this, but somehow knowing that there are people standing right outside with the possible intent to kill them is different.

Snake lowers down onto his belly, rolls onto his back, body hidden behind the long form of the sofa. He breathes slow and even until he hears the lock click, just as the bedroom window shatters, back door rattling where it’s been barred shut. Right on time.

Three through the front door. Body armor, NVGs, AKs. Private military. The first guy’s the smallest, checks left, checks right, motions his men to move up. The other two are big, bruisers, but with the backs of their necks exposed, so fragile, so unguarded, it’s easy for Snake to calm himself, that cold embrace of combat closing over him. He pulls the trigger, a sharp second before blood is gushing out of the little guy’s neck with a strangled noise, like an overripe fruit squeezed in a big, tight fist. 

He drops down hard as the other two start to react, and Snake is up and moving and sliding through the air like silk, reaching for a rifle to throw his weight forward, tip the big guy off balance, free hand arcing with his gun, fire, headshot, DOA. Then, quickly, he aims down, doesn’t need to look for the soft spot of his side unprotected by body armor, fires another round. The guy on his side shouts, punched in, and it doesn’t stop him from butting Snake in the ribs with the raw end of his AK. Snake nails him hard in the head, dazed, puts him down on his hands and knees.

“Behind.” Hal’s hollow voice in his head, gunshots, Snake swerving wildly, blading his body to the side to return fire, but his SOCOM can’t take an assault rifle in a fair fight, can’t keep up. But he is a weapon, and he won’t stop, loses the gun to the side for something with more stopping power.

The gutshot man isn’t moving far, incapacitated, and Snake strikes forward, capable hands catching the AK, turning it on his assailant with a quick slap of metal. He doesn’t think, pulls the trigger, watches him fall back over the countertop, chunks of brain and blood painting every surface as he moves onto the next.

He drops to a crouch, edges towards the back door, flat along the wall. The AK is warm in his hands, freshly fired, the smell of gunpowder and iron in the air. He waits, patient, the groans of the injured man the only noise in the room. Feels more than sees the last two, anticipates it when they turn to him, find a face full of rifle.

Slamming the trigger, he lands body shots, throws himself away from the wall as he’s fired upon, slides on his heel to whip around and shoot. One more down with a meaty thud, and he’s anticipating it when the last assailant advances on him, and he ducks low, rushes him.

They come down hard and there’s a struggle for the top spot, AK knocked far and away from him, spiraling towards Hal who’s breathing hard, hands covering his head, hiding behind the counter. Snake’s gun is lost in the ensuing scuffle, a fist in his face, mouth bloody, and there’s a boot knife he manages to catch, silver in the corner of his eye. His fingers curl around a thick, guarded wrist, wrenching the hand away, other hand scrabbling to gain purchase on the guy’s face, his neck, knee pressing into the hollow of his clavicle, he gets a good hold on his head and _wrenches_ , hears the satisfying pop and crack of his neck, feels the life leave his body in an instant.

He’s breathing hard, muscles bulged out, shuddering, as he drops the man to the ground between his legs. He stands, waits, listens, but there is no one else coming. They would’ve sent more men if they knew he was here. If they knew he was alive. So they’re here for--

Snake turns, looks over to Hal, still prone, staring back at him in horror. There’s blood in his hair, all over his face, and Snake closes in on him, pulls him up from the ground roughly. Starts pulling at his skin, his hair.

“Where.”

“W-what?”

“You’re injured,” he says, sharply, manhandling Hal as he searches. “Where?”

Gutshot moans softly where Snake left him, but his focus leaves no room for that man, not with the immediate threat of danger momentarily abated. 

“It’s not mine,” Hal says, breathless, eyes unfocused. “It’s not my blood.” 

Snake’s hands move away, and he’s clinical, detached. He stands, erect and tall, blood still thundering in his ears.

Then, Snake evaluates. The man over the counter, his blood is steadily pooling onto the floor at their feet. There’s a skull fragment on Hal’s shoulder. There is a man clinging to the last vestiges of his consciousness, gutshot, writhing around on the floor six feet away.

He finds his SOCOM off the ground, stalks back to the only remaining man alive. Snake sets a foot on his shoulder, rolls him over to face upward. He reaches down to tug back the goggles, the helmet. He can feel the weight of Hal’s gaze on his shoulders, where he’s stone still, waiting for direction, waiting for _anything_.

Standing, he pulls back the hammer, aims down at his head. “Talk.”

“It’s you. It was supposed to just be--” His mouth is thick with blood, and he’s dying, still full of pride. Still loyal to his unit, their rapidly cooling bodies spread all over the cabin floor. “Y-you’re _alive?_ ”

“Who sent you?”

A humorless laugh. “You’re just gonna have to fucking kill me, man.”

He coughs, these great heaving things, black blood over his lips and chin, thick and full of mucous. Snake realizes he has maybe three, four minutes until he bleeds out entirely, and he’s not going to waste any time waiting when more men could be on the way. Nobody left to give a SITREP.

Snake crouches low, reaches for the man’s chin with his head, forces him to meet his eyes. He’s defiant, but there’s fear there, and he knows he’s about to meet his end. He isn’t like Big Boss, not Liquid, won’t drag this out, won’t torture him for information. He isn’t cruel.

His finger moves off the trigger guard. The man is looking back at him, and his face starts to twitch, this is it, this is the end. He takes aim. The shot that rings out is deafening. A bullet hole square between his eyes is staring back at him, red oozing down the center of his face. His eyes remain open, staring into nothingness, empty. 

Snake clicks the safety back on, lowers the gun, free hand reaching into the man’s uniform for dogtags, logos, anything that will tell him his association. Nothing. Rising back to his feet, he turns to Hal, still frozen at the counter where he left him, arms hanging at his sides.

“Otacon,” he says, and it doesn’t get him a reaction. Hal is paralyzed, frozen in time, and he needs him to move, needs him to pull himself together. “ _Otacon_.”

Hal feels like he’s underwater, but he starts at Snake’s voice, and something inside him just triggers, snaps. Otacon looks back at his partner, draws in a deep breath, nods. They have to go.

The laptops, the weaponry and any incidentals are gathered up in record time. Hal is mechanical, unthinking, and they don’t speak as they pass each other, Snake rolling over bodies to pat them down. He’s thinking gasoline when Otacon breezes by, shaking his head, and he doesn’t even have to say anything, his partner already has plans to deal with the evidence.

It isn’t much longer until they’re back on the road, Otacon making strange calls, sending encrypted texts. His movements are too sharp and jerky to be natural, and there’s still blood all over his face, his shirt. His hands are shaking. Snake focuses on the road, wants to put enough distance between them and the cabin to absolutely ensure no one’s followed them. Wants to keep him safe. Wants a cigarette.

Finally, the tension starts to leave him, the combat rush pulling back to uncover his more emotional brain, the part that’s suddenly more than a little concerned. He takes an exit off the highway, drives along a quieter road. They need to stop and regroup. They still have no idea who came for them, though he imagines his partner is already working on it.

Otacon locks the burner phone with a click, swallows thickly, throat feeling impossibly dry. “A cleanup crew will be onsite in forty-five to an hour.”

“Our DNA is all over that cabin.”

“Not for long. There won’t be a single trace of us once they’ve finished up. Like we were never there at all.” 

The deep web had led to some interesting discoveries, after all. He’d only needed thirty minutes and a complicated network of less than legal activities to arrange a new safehouse, a new car and the aforementioned cleanup. It’s far from the first or last hasty exit they’ve had to beat. He can’t even bring himself to feel guilty about it.

He can’t even bring himself to feel _anything_ right now.

Pulling the SIM card from the cell phone, he snaps it in half, then breaks the phone as well. Burnt. He cranks down the window and tosses it out into the night, uncaring. He leaves it open, the cold night air biting into his skin, whole face feeling tight. He flips down the sun visor, touches his cheek. God, there’s blood all over his face. He looks in the mirror like he’s outside himself, like there’s another person staring back at him.

Otacon’s still just touching his face, detached, when Snake pulls onto the shoulder and kills the engine, car going dark around them. The dash light lazily comes to life, the empty road stretching long and lone ahead, no cars for miles. He turns, confused, finds Snake staring back at him lacking the cold mask of professionalism he’d worn while ruthlessly slaughtering all of those men, the lines under his eyes strained and tense with worry.

“Are you okay?” he asks, slow and measured, like Otacon might finally lose it at any second.

He blinks, eyes feeling sticky, dry. It’s like everything around him has slowed down, stopped, now that the danger is further away from him. “I think I might be disassociating a little.” 

“Okay.” A beat. “Can I touch you?”

“Yeah.”

Neither of them moves for a moment. Then, cautiously, Dave reaches across his lap, pops open the dash and locates a first aid kit. He fishes out the alcohol wipes, before taking his chin, turning his face in his steady, gentle hands. 

The wet fabric is cool against his skin, and he feels his lower lip drag down as Dave carefully cleans the blood around his mouth, his cheekbones. He reaches for his glasses, tugs them off his ears and away, sets them on the dashboard. Everything goes fuzzy as Dave pushes back his hair to get the spots around his eyebrows, his temples, the touch cautious and careful.

Hal draws in a deeper breath, feels the heaviness of his body, feels himself start to center. Dave’s hands steadily move over his face and neck, and his world is the acrid smell of alcohol, the hard shape of Dave’s jaw inches away from him, and his safe haven is not lost. God, he’s going to miss that place. He knew it couldn’t last forever.

He reaches out, grasps Dave’s wrist in a hand, curves his face into his touch. A low noise leaves him as his eyes screw shut, and he can’t help it. He’s mourning. He’ll never be okay with the loss of human life. He’ll do anything he can to prevent it.

“I’m sorry,” says Dave. He understands. Hal doesn’t even need to speak, and he understands. 

His glasses are extended back to him like an olive branch, and Hal’s hands are still shaking as he accepts. His world, Dave’s face, comes back into sharp focus as he slides them on, a spot of blood in the corner of his gaze. The look he’s receiving seems unsure, like he might fly apart at any moment.

“It had to be done,” he supplies, after a moment. “You protected us.” 

“I know how you feel about killing.”

“You protected us.”

Dave watches him for a moment, Hal turning to look out the windshield. He wipes his lips again with the back of his hand, eyes narrowing, and not for the first, second, hundredth time, Dave knows. He would do anything for this man. He can’t even bring himself to fear his own devotion any longer. 

He turns the key in the ignition, forces himself to relax, hands settling on the wheel. Beside him, Hal stares dead ahead, mind working. He feels something like resolve settle over him, and Hal is strong and sure, and he’s relieved to feel no sting of fear, no hint of doubt. 

Trust runs like a river.

The road is long and level ahead, and he is not alone. The future waits for no one.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review/kudos if you enjoyed. We're back into mission fic next time. I still have a lot planned for this 'verse.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me this far.

**Author's Note:**

> Part two shouldn't be out before long! As always, please feel free to leave any constructive criticism, but I'll also accept full-tilt shrieking in the comments! You can also find me at highandholy.tumblr.com for any extra shrieking!
> 
> Also, if you haven't seen it already, credit to harshai for creating [wonderful illustrations](http://140-48.tumblr.com/post/133504473925/points-at-highandholy-screams-points-at) for this series.


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